The Billionaire's Christmas Baby

by Victoria James

  It had taken them only minutes to cross the little village of Hope’s Crossing. From what he saw of the town, through his haze of red, was that it was that Norman Rockwell, picture perfect type of place. Cutesy, put-it-in-a-snow globe type of village. But he wasn’t really interested in the town. His mind worked overtime trying to process everything. He felt like he was starring in some bizarre movie of himself. When had his life become so unpredictable?

  He stared through the window at the red brick Victorian before him and his throat constricted involuntarily. It was so damn idyllic. It was small, ornate. There was cedar roping with dark red ribbons that framed the heavy molding on the windows and the pristine white porch. Urns were overflowing with cedar and other greenery. The white plump snowflakes that floated down from the sky only made it more magical.

  He actually found himself unable to speak for a moment because never in his life had something ever evoked in him such a need to have a home. A real home. A house. With a wife. With kids. Hell, maybe even a white picket fence. But Jackson Pierce was not your white picket-fence kind of man. No, he was the guy who lived in a penthouse surrounded by skylines and anonymity. Steel and glass. Money and ambition. Shallowness and greed. Loneliness.

  “It may not be a mansion, Jackson, but it’s perfect for me.” He heard her unlatch her seatbelt and he knew she was seconds from jumping out of the SUV.

  “It’s you. Totally you.” It’s beautiful, sentimental, nostalgic, pure Hannah. Her cheeks bloomed with that gorgeous blush he found himself utterly hooked on and those lips that made him curse the fact that they’d never slept together that night.

  “Oh,” Hannah said, furrowing her brow and looking out the windshield.

  “What, no smart-ass retort?” he teased, feeling better for a moment. Then he pictured some jerk’s hands on Hannah and he felt the need to bash his fist through the windshield. So he frowned. And then she frowned back at him.

  “Let’s go inside and see how we can straighten out this mess you got us into.” She didn’t give him a chance to argue as the door shut on his reply. Funny how she was the one giving him the cold shoulder.

  He followed her up to the covered porch. They had a lot of straightening out to do, all right. He braced himself for a hell of a battle. She was so damn secretive about her life he wondered how he could feel such an intense connection with someone he knew so little about. But he’d found out way more than he’d bargained for thanks to that Jean woman.

  He waited while Hannah fumbled with the old lock. Moments later he stood in her entranceway while she walked around turning on lights. He was struck by the hominess. Feminine and cheerful, with pale yellow walls, deep trim and molding, and wide-plank pine floors scattered with brightly colored rugs. He followed her into the kitchen, where she had already started brewing a fresh pot of coffee. She took out cups and was banging things around a little too loudly.

  “Hannah.” His voice came out harsher than he intended, but he needed answers. He didn’t want a cup of coffee and he didn’t want to beat around the bush. “Care to tell me what that battle-axe was talking about back there?”

  “What do you mean?” she asked stiffly, her shoulders squared, her back ramrod straight. A part of him wanted to cross the distance between them and knead the tension out of her slender shoulders, to whisper and coax whatever she hid out of her. But he knew she wouldn’t respond to that. He knew that she would see it as being weak.

  “Don’t play games with me, Hannah.”

  “I don’t play games,” she said, whipping around to face him.

  He nodded, softening his features, his tone, hating that he had to ask something that was already killing him to think about let alone speak about. “Hannah, she said you were beaten and almost raped.” He watched as every single speck of color drained from her face. “What happened?” He caught a faint quiver in her chin when he spoke.

  “That’s what this is about…what you’re angry about?” she asked, her voice shaky, her eyes wide and so heartbreakingly vulnerable that he just wanted to walk over and hold her. Hannah never let her vulnerability show, which meant…he clenched his stomach, not able to breathe at the thought…it confirmed what he already suspected…her reaction to things…the night he’d touched her arm…her withdrawal from him sexually.

  “Jackson?”

  He focused in on her pale face and nodded. “What did you think?”

  “About your sister.” She took a deep breath, her eyes filled with pain. “It’s my fault that she killed herself. I missed the signs—”

  “God, you can’t blame yourself. Of course I don’t blame you for that. How could anyone?” He walked across the room, unable to stop himself from offering her comfort. “Hannah,” he said roughly, gathering her against him. “I could never blame you.” His arms tightened around her. He felt all the tension leave her body, and she wrapped her arms around him. He wanted to reassure her, comfort her. How could she blame herself for Louise’s death? How could she hold more guilt than he? He had failed his sister. Not Hannah. He kissed the top of her head, the soft hair at her temples, his hands moving to stroke that tender spot on her neck. He wanted to shut out the rest of the world and stay in this Victorian cottage.

  “If anyone is to blame it’s me. I’m the one who turned my back on her.” He had never admitted that out loud. He had spent most of his adult life feeling angry at Louise, but deep down he knew he’d given up on her. He could have tried one more time. He felt Hannah take a steadying breath against him and slowly step out of his arms. Just like that, like a flurry of clouds suddenly taking away the sun, Hannah put distance between them.

  She looked up at him and he wanted to know what she saw, uncomfortably aware that he hadn’t given a damn in a long time what someone thought of him. Once he’d become wealthy and successful he’d thought that was all he needed. He had made it and nothing could touch him. But now, standing here in this tiny kitchen, with her beautiful face and glorious eyes staring up at him, he questioned all of it. Everything he had achieved, he wondered if it was enough.

  “We all do what we have to do to survive. You gave her so much. No one can blame you for finally taking care of yourself.” How did she do it? How could she see through him like that?

  She turned to get the coffee.

  “Hannah?”

  “Mm-hmm,” she murmured, stepping around him to pull out a carton of milk from the fridge, as though nothing had happened, as though they were merely casual acquaintances about to share a cup of coffee.

  “You never answered my question.” He caught the tremor in her hand as she poured the coffee. She was a master at avoidance.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked, peering into her fridge.

  He shut the fridge and she frowned up at him.

  “You’re not going to let this go are you?”

  He shook his head.

  “It’s really not as dramatic as she made it sound,” Hannah said, and he knew she was trying to act casual as she walked passed him to sit at the round table. He followed her, picking up his mug of coffee, sitting across from her at the table.

  “So then it shouldn’t be too difficult for you to talk about it,” Jackson said, watching her eyes flash with annoyance. He took a sip of his coffee, his fingers gripping the handle tightly, waiting for her to speak. He was half expecting her to tell him she wasn’t going to talk about it.

  She cleared her throat after taking a long drink. “It was one of my first cases I’d been assigned to. She was a teenager, living with an abusive, alcoholic father. Long story short, when she didn’t return my calls I found out she had gotten approval to get out of our system.” She traced the rim of the smooth cup and he could tell she was getting lost in the memory. He felt his muscles tense in anticipation of where this story was going.

  “I had a gut feeling that things didn’t magically get better at home. So one night, I stopped by their place. I was a total rookie,” she said with a small laugh that didn’t hold an oun
ce of amusement. “I heard yelling. Men’s voices. Then I heard Jen’s voice, but it was more of a scream.”

  Jackson held his breath and waited for her to continue.

  “At that point I should have called in for help, but I was young, and stupid, and I ran in there and, God, did I learn a lesson that night,” Hannah said with laugh that was so self-critical, so deprecating that Jackson felt his throat tighten. She looked up at the ceiling, blinking back tears that she couldn’t hide from him. “Her dad was gone and two of his friends had her pinned down on the sofa, half naked. And uh…I was no match for them,” she said, turning her eyes to him. And at that moment he hated more than he ever thought he could hate someone. Hannah’s eyes didn’t leave his when she continued.

  “They pushed me down before I could run, before I could think of how to defend myself. They laughed, they slapped me around, ripped my clothes. The harder I fought, the harder they laughed. They touched me and when I thought…when I thought that was it, Jen came up from behind and whacked the guy that was on top of me with a frying pan. We managed to knock the other one unconscious too. We ran out to my car and drove to the police station.” Jackson was torn between wanting to hold her and wanting to smash something. He knew, based on her stiff posture, the tilt of her chin and her cool tone that she didn’t want him to touch her. And he knew it was because she would lose it if he did. That stranglehold she had on her emotions would come undone.

  But he couldn’t sit still anymore. He couldn’t get the image of Hannah being thrown on the ground and touched by those animals out of his mind. Jackson had lived through his own hell. He wasn’t a naive man. But hearing this, hearing someone try and hurt someone so good, someone he cared for, made him want to go out and inflict some serious bodily harm.

  “They didn’t—uh—” How the hell could he finish that sentence? He gripped the side of the thick pine table as Hannah shook her head.

  “No. And I have no regrets for going in there that night. If I hadn’t gone in, they would have raped her, Jackson,” she said, emotion returning to her eyes, softening her voice…and ultimately melting his heart. “I only regret not having a plan, walking in there by myself. The next morning I registered for self defense classes.” He knew they were both thinking about that night in his bed, when she’d told him she could have knocked him to the ground. He almost wanted to smile with pride for her, for her strength and determination, and that unwavering courage. Then he thought of the last night when she was in his arms and had stopped him from making love to her. She was still afraid.

  “What happened to them?”

  Hannah shrugged. “Serving a ten year sentence.”

  “You know that wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for you.”

  …

  Hannah nodded absently. She felt warmed by the way he was looking at her, the admiration she heard in his voice. Hannah couldn’t believe she had revealed so much. She hadn’t spoken about that night in years. But somehow it felt right to tell him, to share that part of her. She had been acutely aware of his tension, had seen his knuckles turn white as she spoke. And try as she might to deny it, it felt so wonderful to have someone care for her. It was just like when he found her in the snow, when he spoke up to Jean for her.

  “Hannah, about Emily.”

  Hannah felt her stomach flip flop. “You can raise her, Jackson, I know you can do it.”

  “But it would be better if I were married. I want every chance to win this. To get Emily forever.”

  Of course a married couple would be better but that didn’t mean her. “While that is true, your case is solid—”

  “Do you remember what you said to me this morning?”

  Hannah shook her head slowly, even though what she had said was dawning on her.

  He leaned forward so that there was barely any distance between them at the table. “You said you would do anything to help me.”

  Hannah’s heart beat ferociously. “I think marrying you is a little beyond help.”

  “Look at it like a business arrangement.”

  He was nuts. He actually thought they should get married. He had gotten it into his undeniably handsome head that he was going to rescue his niece. Now he needed to figure out the logistics and she was the easiest solution.

  “Business arrangement?”

  “You and I get married. You move into my place, help me raise her. I’ll pay you for your help.”

  “I can’t let you pay me.” Hannah crossing her arms across her chest.

  “Why not? You’re providing me with a service.”

  “So am I the nanny slash housekeeper?”

  “No, I want you to help me care for her. I have a housekeeper and cook already. I need you to guide me, and take care of the day to day stuff that a baby would need.”

  “How long is this arrangement for? Am I going to drop my life, sell my house, and move in indefinitely?”

  “That’s the gist of it. And you’ll have enough time to continue school. I’ll pay your tuition. I don’t want you to give that up.”

  This was ridiculous. Hannah felt a nervous shiver creep up her spine as he stared determinedly at her. It was easy for him to say drop everything and leave. Her house, her home was everything to her. It was the first place that no one could take away from her and now…

  “Hannah, I need you, Emily needs you.” He needed her? It was wonderful to think that he meant her, but she knew of course he meant that he needed her for Emily. And Emily, how could she let go of the little baby that she already desperately loved?

  “I couldn’t possibly live with you though, you, you’re…you’re…”

  “Handsome, rich, and irresistible?”

  “Obstinate, arrogant, and domineering.”

  “Ah, but that’s all a front.”

  “There’s really a guy with a heart of gold under there?”

  “Exactly.”

  “So, if I agree to this…”

  “We go to city hall the day after tomorrow. I’ll have my lawyers take over the adoption process. I’m not going to lose Emily. We’re not going to lose her.” Hannah believed him, but marriage? Living together? She had to think of it as a business arrangement. Emily would have a great home with her uncle. Hannah would be able to sleep at night knowing she’d fulfilled Louise’s last wish, and she would get to be in Emily’s life. What more could she want?

  “In the meantime, if you want to get your things from your house, we’ll lock it up, and get you settled into my place in the city,” Jackson said, as casually as if he’d mentioned grabbing a sandwich for lunch.

  Hannah stared blankly at him. “Now?”

  He nodded. “I thought we had gone over this?”

  “Settling into your place, like right away?”

  “We’re obviously going to have to live together in order to be the family we say we are to adopt Emily. This is your area of expertise, Hannah. I shouldn’t be the one telling you how this works. We can come back here on the weekends or something.”

  Hannah felt her heart beat painfully. “Jackson. This is a pretend marriage. Once you get Emily, I’m out of the picture.” She didn’t realize those words would or could actually cause her pain. For a second she could see herself with Jackson and Emily, as a real family. But she’d never be the right woman for Jackson. What if one day, when his attraction to her wore off, he’d decide he didn’t need her around? She couldn’t let herself get attached to him, or the idea of being a real family.

  “Hannah, what are you worrying about now?”

  “In the span of two hours I lost my job, am getting married, adopting a baby, moving out of my house to God knows where—”

  “My penthouse,” he said with a laugh, “is not God-knows where. It’s like an hour from here.”

  “Fine, so I’m leaving my little town for some playboy penthouse.” She drummed her fingers against the table while he laughed.

  “You really have got me all wrong don’t you,” he said, smiling.
/>   “You did have that basket of female toiletries at the cabin.”

  His loud laugh interrupted her again. She glared at him.

  “So you assumed that I bring hoards of women up to my cabin, seduce them, and then give them gift baskets?” His grin was starting to bother her, and so were his logical explanations. “You’re the only woman who’s been up to my cabin, Hannah,” he said, his voice low and throaty. “That basket was left by the designer.”

  Her hands settled around her mug of cold coffee. “This is not easy. I haven’t had time to process anything.”

  “Hey, who found who, remember?” he said gently. She stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. She had found him, and he was doing exactly what she’d wanted. Could she fault him for trying to make this all work? So what was the big deal to marry Jackson temporarily? Her stomach flopped over. Marry him. Sham or not, it was a huge deal.

  “Why don’t we take this one day at a time. Get your stuff, settle into my place, we get married. Help me set up for Emily’s arrival, and then we’ll see what happens.”

  “You know, I remembered that I really need to, um, do something. I’ll be right back,” Hannah said and bolted out of the room. She ran into her bedroom, feeling like a complete moron. She didn’t hear him walk in and jumped at the sound of his voice. Jackson filled up her tiny bedroom like a lion in a dollhouse.

  “Why are you running away from me?”

  Her eyes went to the pile of Christmas presents she’d purchased for Emily. Perfect. She could get them ready. But when she started to turn, Jackson gently reached out to grab her wrist. She didn’t try to pull away. His touch felt decadent, impossible to refuse.

  “Why did you end things the other night?”

  She felt her face ignite at the memory. Her eyes darted to her antique bed and she couldn’t stop the image of the two of them sprawled across it. What was he doing to her? She finally looked up at him, and realized he stood way too close. And they were both standing way too close to her bed. Years of self-control and self-preservation could be easily tossed out the window when she stood this close to this man. And why did he have to look so good without a shave? It was that darn firm jaw, the eyes that were so…