Baby for the Billionaire

by Maxine Sullivan

  “Oh.” Victoria instantly felt better. “I’ve arranged for some of my things to be delivered tomorrow. I’ll put the rest into storage and let the town house.”

  “I’ve made some calls,” Connor said. “I’ll be interviewing for an au pair for Dylan tomorrow during the morning.”

  “But I thought we’d do that together.” He was doing it again—taking over, marginalizing her involvement. And underlining her own insecurities. “I want to have input into the person that we hire.”

  Connor frowned. “I’ve already arranged the interviews, and I’ll be working from home until I employ an au pair. It’s not fair to leave Moni with the house and Dylan.”

  “Moni?”

  “My housekeeper. I’ll introduce you shortly.”

  “Thanks,” she said brusquely. “But I’d appreciate it if you would rearrange the interviews for when I come home. We’ve got joint guardianship—and that means we’re partners, we consult each other and make joint decisions.” That would be hard for him. Connor North didn’t have a compromising bone in that powerful, autocratic body.

  Her gaze dwelled for a moment on the strong shoulders, the determined jaw, then locked with his unreadable gray gaze. A shivery awareness caused her to shift her attention back to the baby wriggling on the carpet.

  “I want to satisfy myself that the person looking after Dylan is the best candidate we can get.”

  “And you don’t trust me to find that person?”

  She thought of his track record. He hadn’t done a great job picking trustworthy people to surround himself with in the past. Dana Fisher and Paul Harper had turned out to be faithless. But she couldn’t very well remind him of that.

  Instead she said stubbornly, “I’m coguardian, I have a right to be involved.”

  “You’re determined to make this as difficult as possible, aren’t you?”

  Victoria shook her head. “I just want to make sure you choose the right person.”

  So the next day, in consultation with Victoria, Connor rescheduled the interviews. Two were set for that night and one for Friday evening. The first candidate, a young woman with impeccable qualifications, had already arrived by the time Victoria came home from work, late and flustered.

  After ten minutes’ easy conversation with Anne Greenside, Connor had decided she was the perfect choice.

  But Victoria clearly had other ideas. “I see most of your jobs have involved older children,” she quizzed Anne.

  “I love babies,” Anne said with a sincerity Connor found convincing.

  “But you can’t stay late?”

  Connor had known that would be a stumbling block the moment he’d seen the woman’s resume. Despite her devotion to Dylan, Victoria was ambitious. Work would always come first. She would want a nanny who could work late. On a regular basis. He didn’t have to cast his mind back far to remember the kind of hours Dana had worked.

  “I live with my invalid mother—she needs me at night. But I can start tomorrow, if that makes it easier for you and your husband.”

  “We’re not married—Dylan’s not even our baby,” Victoria blurted out.

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware of that.” But Anne looked curiously from one to the other.

  “My fault,” said Connor easily, “I should’ve explained the situation to the agency.” He quickly filled her in.

  “Poor baby.” Anne looked stricken. “He’s fortunate to have the two of you. But it’s not going to be easy for him as he grows up.”

  “What do you mean?” Victoria asked first.

  “He’ll always have questions—he’s not like other children now. His parents’ death has seen to that.”

  “He’ll have us.”

  Connor could feel Victoria’s growing tension.

  “Yes, but you’re not his parents. You aren’t planning to adopt him—” She looked at them enquiringly.

  Connor shook his head slowly.

  “We haven’t discussed it,” Victoria said repressively.

  After Anne had left, Connor said. “I like her. She’s perfect. We should offer her the position before someone else snaps her up.”

  Victoria shook her head. “I don’t agree. And she’s very opinionated.”

  But Anne had said spoken the truth. It was in Dylan’s interests for them to consider all points of view. But Connor bit his tongue. He should’ve expected this. When had Victoria ever agreed with him? Yet, instead of accusing her of merely trying to frustrate him, he drew a deep breath. “Her references are fantastic.”

  “I still need to call and verify them. I can only do that tomorrow.” She glanced at him. “Anyway, we have to see the others. I’d like you to keep an open mind while we interview them.”

  Before he could respond the next candidate had arrived. It didn’t take long for Connor to catch Victoria’s eye. She looked equally dubious.

  He relaxed a little. His concerns that Victoria might oppose him simply for the hell of it evaporated.

  They thanked the woman for coming and Connor saw her out.

  When he returned to the study Victoria said, “She was awful.”

  “Agreed.” That must be a first. He started to grin and Victoria smiled back, her mouth wide and luscious. Instantly, heat spread through him.

  “I want someone older. Steadier.”

  Connor forced his gaze away from her mouth and tried to focus on what she was saying. “Not too old.”

  Victoria stuck her bottom lip out in that infuriating way that he’d come to recognize meant trouble.

  “I can see you’ve already decided on Anne,” she said. “You should’ve waited until I came before you started the interview.”

  The warmth and desire that had filled him evaporated. “Don’t be unreasonable. I didn’t start it alone by design. You were late.”

  “Something came up.” But she looked abashed. “It won’t happen tomorrow.”

  But when Victoria rushed home on Friday evening, it was to find that the third prospect had cancelled. And Connor had gone ahead and employed Anne.

  “I called. You were in a meeting,” he said to her intense fury.

  “You should’ve waited.”

  “I didn’t want to mess around and lose Anne,” he said with patient logic that infuriated her further.

  After giving Dylan his bottle that night, Victoria headed downstairs in her nightgown and dressing gown to make herself a cup of tea in the state-of-the-art kitchen, still annoyed at his take-charge actions.

  She drank the hot tea, and thought how lovely it had been to come home to a hot meal that Connor’s housekeeper had prepared. Usually she was too tired at night to make much more than a sandwich for dinner.

  When she’d finished her tea and rinsed out the cup, she felt much better, and wearily wound her way up the stairs to her room—suite of rooms, she amended. A large bathroom and two bedrooms led off the sitting room. The smaller of the bedrooms had been converted into a nursery—complete with pale-blue walls and bright-yellow ducks stenciled as a border.

  She pushed open the nursery door. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness from the night-light she made out a big, bulky shadow beside the cot where the baby slept.

  Connor.

  She stilled. She hadn’t expected to find him here. Stupid. Of course he’d want to say good-night to the baby. Her anger at him was overtaken by the slow pound of her heart that was suddenly loud in her ears.

  Connor turned his head. “The big guy is fast asleep.”

  “I know, I put him down.” Victoria felt the smile tug at the corner of her lips. “Tonight was a struggle, he fought so hard against sleep.”

  “Tough fellow.”

  Stopping beside Connor, she said softly, “He’s so little.”

  “And amazingly resilient.”

  “And we’re responsible for him.”

  “I still find it tough to believe that we’re now standing in loco parentis.” Connor gazed down at the baby with an expression Victoria could not deciphe
r.

  In the place of his parents.

  It brought home the reality of the responsibility facing them. And how permanent the arrangement was. It was vital for her and Connor to work together. For all intents and purposes they were now Dylan’s parents. The only difference between them was that she really was Dylan’s mother.

  Her baby lay so still in the crib that she leant forward to touch him.

  “He’s sleeping—I checked, too.” Connor gave her a slight smile. Then his gaze dropped and grew warm.

  Victoria glanced down, to find that her dressing gown tie had come undone and fallen open to reveal the white lace, diaphanous nightgowns that she favored.

  She flushed. “I think I’ll call it a night.”

  And when Connor responded, “That’s a very good idea.” She had no idea what to make of his reply.

  Eight

  “Truce?” Connor offered at breakfast on Saturday.

  After a moment Victoria took the hand he held out. This was the closest Connor would come to an apology for employing Anne without her input. “Truce,” she agreed.

  For Dylan’s sake.

  And for her own. She had to learn to get on with Connor better. But it wasn’t easy—he could be so dominating.

  “Anne’s very good with Dylan,” she conceded. She felt the day brighten when Connor grinned at her.

  “Let’s take Dylan out today to celebrate his recovery,” he suggested as he reached for a slice of toast.

  “Today?”

  Dismayed, Victoria stared at him. She’d intended to wash her hair while Dylan had his morning nap. The week had sped past, and between work and Dylan she’d hardly had a moment to call her own. She hadn’t even had an opportunity to try out the large bath with jets in the guest en suite bathroom.

  Connor’s face hardened. “I’ll take him to the zoo alone—and you can go to work.”

  Annoyance ignited within her. This was his idea of a truce? “I had no intention of working this weekend. And the zoo sounds fantastic. I just wanted an hour to—” washing her hair sounded so self-indulgent and would no doubt unleash more contempt “—to take a shower.”

  “How about I feed Dylan and keep him out of your hair for an hour and we leave a little later?”

  “That would be wonderful.” She beamed at Connor, her heart lighter than it had been for weeks. “Thank you.”

  Two lionesses lolled about on their backs like giant kittens on a grassy hillock, revealing creamy tummies to the delighted crowd that had taken advantage of the sunny day to visit the zoo.

  Dylan gurgled in his pushchair and several children shrieked as one of the lionesses rolled over lithely and rose to her feet, before padding to the edge of the moat that divided the big cats from the spectators.

  After the giant feline had finished drinking and had flopped down on a sunny rock, Connor and Victoria meandered farther along the path, Connor pushing the baby’s loaded buggy, to where two elephants picked at a hay net with their trunks.

  Connor glanced over at Victoria. Since they’d gotten to the zoo she’d attracted a fair amount of second looks. With her hair as sleek and shiny in the sunlight as polished mahogany and her hazel eyes alight with excitement, she looked happier than he’d ever seen her.

  And, dammit, she was downright gorgeous.

  To get his attention off the way her white denim skirt clung to her posterior, Connor swept Dylan out of his pushchair and held him high.

  “See the elephants, Dylan?” Victoria pointed and her buttoned yellow cardigan pulled taut across her breasts.

  Connor stifled a groan and his hands involuntarily tightened on the baby, who muttered a protest and wriggled in Connor’s arms.

  “Sorry, mate.”

  But Dylan had already stilled at the sight of the huge pachyderms as the nearest elephant flapped its ears. A chortle escaped—the sound of baby delight.

  Connor laughed aloud and his eyes caught Victoria’s over Dylan’s head. For a second they shared a pure joy. Then Dylan began to bump up and down in Connor’s arms in excitement.

  “Whoa, that’s an elephant, Dyl. He’s too big to pick a fight with.”

  “Size doesn’t matter,” said Victoria.

  Connor shot her a glance. Nope, she wouldn’t hold back against a bigger opponent.

  High color flagged her cheeks. “Sorry, that came out wrong. What I meant to say was that Dylan should never let himself be intimidated.”

  His mouth twitching, Connor cocked his head to one side and considered her. “So you’re conceding size does count?”

  She gave him a quick up-down look and Connor waited for the acid comeback. Instead he encountered eyes filled with flustered nervousness.

  He’d unsettled her. Score to him.

  Connor grinned inwardly.

  She blinked rapidly. “I’m just saying the giant doesn’t always win—remember David and Goliath.”

  He swept his gaze slowly over her. “You don’t look like any David I’ve ever met.”

  She made a sound of mock disgust. Connor threw back his head and laughed, and a moment later, to his astonishment, Victoria joined in.

  He held out a hand to her. “Let’s go see the otters.”

  To his surprise she reached for his hand, her fingers linking through his, the pushchair trailing in her other hand. Heat bolted through him and all laughter vanished as he looked at her—really looked at her—with a shaken sense of never having seen her before.

  Then Dylan butted him, claiming his attention, and Connor came back to reality with a thump.

  Later Victoria helped Connor lay a rug down on the freshly mown grass in front of an empty bandstand near a lake with ducks and swans. Connor rolled on his back, pulling Dylan onto his chest while Victoria knelt beside him and reached for the picnic basket they’d brought along.

  It was all so domestic.

  And most amazing of all, she and Connor hadn’t argued once.

  He was holding Dylan above him on outstretched arms, making airplane noises. Laughter lines crinkled his cheeks. God, he was gorgeous.

  An unwanted echo of that moment when their eyes had locked—of the scintillating awareness that had sizzled earlier—sent a frisson through her.

  No.

  She was not falling into that trap. Connor was her coguardian, not a prospective date. She daren’t start finding him attractive.

  Looking away, she rummaged into the basket and pulled out a container of sandwiches that Moni had prepared.

  The thud on her back took her breath away. Her eyes shot open in time to see a football rolling along the blanket and a pair of sneakers following in swift pursuit. Boyish hands scooped the ball up.

  “Jordan, apologize at once!”

  “Sorry.” A sheepish grin appeared from beneath a baseball cap. “Won’t do it again.” A singsong note of overuse underlay the words.

  Her breath back, Victoria suppressed the urge to call him a name—or worse, grin at him and condone the carelessness. “Perhaps kick the ball the other way.”

  Connor sat up beside her, perching Dylan on his knee, and gave the boy a level stare.

  “No, I’ve already told Jordan that he’s not to lose a fifty-dollar ball in the tiger’s cage.” A harried-looking woman with red hair standing up in spikes had appeared. “You have to be more careful, boy.”

  But Jordan was already gone, zigzagging over the lawn, dribbling the ball ahead of him.

  “Kids.” The woman rolled her eyes. Then she added, “At least yours is still harmless. Enjoy him while you can. It gets worse.”

  Victoria started to correct the redhead, to tell her that Dylan wasn’t their baby. Then she stopped herself. It was just too hard to explain.

  So she smiled instead. “We will.”

  “Your baby’s very cute.”

  Dylan gurgled and blew a raspberry on cue.

  “Thanks.”

  Jordan’s mother shifted her attention to Connor. “He’s going to have his mother’s goldy-brown
eyes and his father’s dimples.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Connor said politely.

  Victoria could’ve kissed him for silently standing by her decision to say as little as possible.

  Victoria had laughed with Suzy in the past when complete strangers had told short, blonde, bubbly Suzy how much the newborn Dylan looked like her—not realizing he didn’t possess any of Suzy’s DNA. Now the memory made her ache with loneliness.

  “I’d better find Jordan before he wrecks the place.” The redhead scanned the surroundings until she found her son. “Or lands in the pond with the goldfish!” She gave them a rueful smile. “I made the mistake of having only one—so when he doesn’t have a friend, guess who has to play with him?” She thrust a thumb at her chest. “Me. Don’t do what I did. Make sure you have another kid to keep yours company.”

  Victoria fidgeted, uncomfortably hot at the too-tempting idea of creating a baby with Connor. Thankfully, Jordan’s mother didn’t seem to expect a reply; she simply wiggled her fingers at Dylan before vanishing in Jordan’s wake.

  After what seemed an age Victoria couldn’t bear the tingling silence any longer. Unable to help herself, she turned her head. And instantly wished she’d resisted the lure.

  Connor was staring at her with predatory speculation, and the normally cool eyes simmered with heat.

  Her heart skipped a beat.

  Victoria pulled herself together. It was up to her to defuse this sexual tension, and as rapidly as possible.

  She chose to do so with humor. “Poor Jordan. What on earth is his mother going to tell his girlfriends one day?”

  Connor flung his head back and laughed. And the strange, heavy ache below her heart expanded, filling her with a yearning she’d never expected.

  The day ended all too soon.

  After securing Dylan in the backseat, Connor held the Maserati’s passenger door open for Victoria. And found himself staring at her legs with all the frustrated hunger of a university student eager for his first lay.

  They were nice legs. Encased in opaque winter stockings, they were shapely, too. So why the hell hadn’t he noticed them before?

  Probably because he’d never seen them. She usually wore black trousers, or long skirts in neutral colors. Black, navy or gray. She never wore a denim skirt that rode up.