Giving Her My Baby

by Alexa Riley

  Giving Her My Baby

  Alexa Riley

  Contents

  Giving Her My Baby

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  Epilogue

  Thief

  Chapter 1

  Also by Alexa Riley

  Stalk the Author

  Copyright © 2018 by Author Alexa Riley LLC. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email to riley_alexa@aol.com

  http://alexariley.com/

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Edited by Aquila Editing

  Cover Design by Perfect Pear Creative Covers

  Cover Photo by Sara Eirew Photographer

  Giving Her My Baby

  Alexa Riley

  Brooks Renshaw has little time on his hands to deal with problems. But when his mom shows up after a weekend in Vegas married to someone he’s never met, he decides to do some digging. Turns out she’s hitched herself to a con artist with a trail of bad debts and abandoned women along the way. When Brooks finds out his new stepdad has a daughter, he decides to look into her, too. Only when he finds his new stepsister, he’s ready to give her exactly what she wants.

  Eleanor works as a live-in baby nurse for new mothers. But her need to have a baby of her own has led her to take matters into her own hands. It’s not the ideal situation, but she can’t wait on Mr. Perfect any longer. But one phone call about a final job may change all her carefully made plans.

  Warning: This book is filthy, gooey goodness, with baby-making galore! They might be stepbrother and sister, but hey, who are we to stop love? Turn the lights down low, because we’ve got some claiming to do!

  To the group of ladies we met in London…

  we made your search for the word “breeding” easy this time. Enjoy!

  1

  Ella

  I stare down at the little boy wrapped in my arms as he gives me a full, gummy smile. “I’m going to miss you,” I coo at him. He lets out a little giggle, reaching out and tugging on a lock of my dark hair. He looks so much like his mother. I wonder if my baby would look like me.

  I’ve been with the Dickens family for three months now and it’s time for me to go. Leaving is the hardest part of my job. It always is. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep going on like this. Each baby takes a little more from me and I can’t bear much more. As much as I love being around babies, it’s hard when it’s something I want more than anything in the world, something I can remember wanting since I was a little girl and held my first baby doll in my arms.

  I glance up at Mrs. Dickens. She’s got her lip between her teeth. “You’ll be fine,” I try to reassure her. Baby Samuel is her first baby, but she’s a great mom. In all honesty I don’t think she even needed me, but some parents really like having a live-in baby nurse when they bring their little ones home from the hospital. It puts them at ease, and even more so with first-time parents.

  “I don’t know how we’re going to do this without you.” Worry laces her words as I walk over to her and place Samuel into her arms.

  “You’ve got this. You’re more than ready.” She looks down at her baby with so much love. I fight back my own tears as I say my goodbyes and grab my bag.

  It’s not until I’m in the back of the taxi that I finally let a tear slip free. I know I’m going to miss little Samuel. I love each baby I care for. I can only imagine the love I’d feel for my own. It’s beyond my comprehension. I know you can’t understand that love until you hold your baby in your arms for the first time.

  I stop at the bakery down the street from my mom’s place and grab our favorite sticky pecan rolls before going home. She’s been working like crazy for the past few months after someone quit at the hospital. I haven’t seen her in weeks and I miss her.

  “Mom, I’m home,” I call out when I enter through the backdoor. I thought when I went to college my mom would move into the city and out of the suburbs, but she never did. She’s always been the one who loves the hustle and bustle of the city. I’m more low key and like being on the outskirts.

  I moved back in with my mom after I graduated from college. I’m not sure you can call it “living with her” because technically I only stay with her in my old room when I’m between jobs. Which isn't often. It’s not hard to find a job in my field. Live-in baby nurses can be hard to come by. Plus, I’d graduated top of my class and my list of recommendations speaks for itself. Many times families would try to get me to stay on longer, but I always said no. I’m scared I’ll get too attached. And a bigger part of me thinks that one day I’ll be starting a family of my own. That day hasn’t happened yet, and I’ve decided to do something about it.

  I pause when I see my mom standing over the dining room table with my folders scattered out on top of it. My mom is a pediatrician and scrubs make up her entire wardrobe. She’s in light blue today.

  I guess loving babies runs in our blood, though my mom only ever had me. She works at the local hospital a few miles away and I still remember when I was little she would take me to the hospital with her. I never liked that she didn’t get to spend much time with each baby. That’s why I chose to be a nurse. Then when I heard about live-in baby nurses I thought that couldn’t be more perfect for me.

  She looks up at me with the same rich brown eyes I see every day in the mirror. Only hers have a few fine lines around them.

  “You’re going to move out, too?” she asks, holding up one of the real estate ads I printed out.

  “I was just looking,” I admit.

  I step into the dining room and set the box down on the table against the wall before walking over to my mom. She pulls me into a hug and it feels like home.

  “I know you want to do this, and I’m on board. I’ll support you, Ella. I just thought you’d be staying here. I could help more that way.”

  My mom would do anything for me. I know that. That’s why I didn’t want to stay here. She would never ask me to leave if she needed space.

  “You’ve got your own life, Mom. You barely signed up for having one baby. I’m not going to push another on you.”

  She pulls back with a look of shock on her face. “Eleanor Newman!” she snaps at me. “I might not have planned for you, but you are the best thing that ever happened to me. You bet your tush I’m going to be a part of my grandbaby’s life.”

  I know I wasn’t a planned baby. She was fresh out of medical school and she fell in lust with a doctor at the hospital she used to work at. Soon into their fast love affair my mom knew he was no good. She broke it off with my biological father and soon after she found out she was pregnant with me. My father, or “sperm donor,” as I often refer to him, said he wanted nothing to do with me. He already had a family of his own.

  He tried to get my mom to get rid of me, but my mom said she knew the mom
ent she found out she was pregnant, I was meant to be her baby girl.

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean it like that,” I tell her as guilt hits me. My mom never made me feel like a mistake. She loves me with her whole heart. I never longed for a dad because she loved me enough for two parents. I just didn’t want my life choices affecting her.

  “I thought if I was going to start trying for a baby that maybe I should get a place of my own.” I’d been saving like crazy since I graduated from college. Pretty much all my checks go straight into my bank account so I can afford getting pregnant, along with taking a big chunk of time off once I finally have my baby.

  “You’ll stay here. This is your home. You don’t have to do this alone. I know I work a lot, but I can help when I’m here.” I see the determination in my mom’s eyes. She isn’t going to back down.

  “Okay. I’ll stay.” Some tension leaves my body, because I know that I won’t be doing this alone. My mom gathers up all the real estate listings and throws them in the trash, only leaving behind the packet about artificial insemination.

  I reach down and pick it up. The pages are worn because I’ve read them over and over. I’ve kept it in a folder hoping that I wouldn’t ever have to use it. That one day I’d find the perfect guy and I wouldn’t need it. But I’m sick of waiting.

  I know part of it is my fault. I’m painfully shy when it comes to men. The only time I seem to be okay around them is when I’m working. And that’s probably because they’re all married.

  My mom comes walking back into the dining room and picks up the box of pastries before sitting down at the table.

  “I’ve already made an appointment,” I admit.

  “I figured.” She smiles over the top of her coffee cup before taking a sip. She’s always two steps ahead of knowing what I’m about to do. I hope that’s a skill I pick up with my own child.

  “I’m going to keep taking jobs until I get pregnant,” I add, hoping it only takes a few tries. I want to save as much money as I can so I can stay out of work longer once the baby finally arrives. I smile thinking about that moment.

  I turn the brochure over and see a happy couple on the back holding their baby. A lump forms in my throat. I love my mom and the family we have. It’s only the two of us and I loved my childhood. But I’d be a liar if I said I’m completely okay with doing this on my own.

  I want it all. To be head over heels in love with a man who wants a family with me as much as I do, but that’s just fairy-tale thinking.

  “You’ll find him one day. You won’t even be looking and he’ll be there.” I look back up at my mom, who’s studying me.

  She never dated. Heck, I’ve never even seen her show interest in a man. It was always work and me, with not much else. She always seemed more than happy with it, so why can’t I be, too?

  I shrug, not wanting to talk about a man who might not even be real. What I can focus on is getting my baby.

  2

  Ella

  “This is Ella,” I say as I pick up my cell phone from my nightstand. I already know who it is because I have a ringtone set just for the agency.

  “Hey Ella, we got a request for you this morning. Think you can do an interview this afternoon?” Jenny asks in her always-chipper voice. It doesn’t matter what time of the day it is or how busy she is, she always sounds happy.

  I glance over at the clock. I should have gotten up thirty minutes ago, but I’m still adjusting to being able to sleep through the night. Out of habit I wake up every few hours thinking there’s a baby to check on, only to remember after sitting up that there isn’t.

  I see that it’s already ten o’clock and I have a doctor’s appointment at eleven. I’m going to have to get a move on it. It’s another reason I had trouble sleeping last night. I keep having nightmares that they’re going to tell me that something is wrong with me and I can’t have a baby. Nightmare scenarios like that play through my mind all the time. Then the nagging thought that I’m doing the wrong thing pops up. I keep pushing that one aside, thinking it’s just me being scared of doing this alone, but I know I can. I love babies and they love me. I’m good with them, and I’m going to be a great mom.

  “It would have to be after one,” I tell her, sitting up and stifling a yawn. “If that doesn't work maybe just get someone else?” I fling my feet over the side of the bed and rub the sleep out of my eyes.

  “No, this was a request for you specifically. I’ll text you all the details.”

  “Thanks,” I tell her before hanging up.

  I need to get my butt moving. I hop into the shower, making quick work of my morning routine before wandering into my closet to find something to wear. I’d planned for something casual, but it looks like I’ll likely be rushing from the clinic to my job interview.

  It isn’t uncommon for me to hop from one job to the next, and most of the ones I get are referrals. This could possibly be my last job as a live-in baby nurse. If I get pregnant right away, that is. I wonder how I’ll transition into being a regular nurse at a hospital or family practice. I know once I have a baby I can no longer be live-in. I haven’t even gotten pregnant and I’m already thinking way too many steps ahead.

  I settle on a simple white dress that falls to my knees with a blazer and flats. I go back into the bathroom and put on some mascara and lip gloss before brushing my hair out one last time. I grab my purse and my phone as I head out, then walk down the street to catch the bus. Maybe I should look into getting a car.

  I don’t have much need for one, but I’m guessing with a baby of my own I will. I make a note in my phone to look up the safest family vehicles. When I get on the bus I look at the information Jenny sent over, pulling up the address on Google Maps to determine if I’ll need to call a taxi or if a bus will get me there.

  I see that I’ll be meeting with a man. Brooks Renshaw. The name sounds familiar, but I can’t place it. When the online map comes up I realize why the name sounded familiar. Renshaw Banking is the biggest in the state and is on track to become one of the biggest in the country. For all I know, it already is.

  Everyone knows who Brooks Renshaw is because of how successful he was at a young age. Something about being good at the stock market, if I recall. There isn’t much more I know about him. I can’t even remember if I’ve seen a picture of him before. I see that our meeting is going to be at his office. I look down at my dress and wonder if I’m underdressed. I remind myself I’m a freaking nurse and not a business woman. I’m not applying for a job at one of his branches.

  Maybe I should Google him. I’m sure it will tell me something about his wife. When I type in his name the first thing that comes up is a picture of him, and my breath catches. No, I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen a picture of him before now, because this is not a man to be missed. Everything about him radiates power and dominance. From his dark hair to his dark eyes. I click on another picture, confirming what I already thought. The power rolls off him. He’s a big man, and in the picture he’s with a few other men, but he easily towers over all of them. It isn’t just his height either; he’s big all over. None of the pictures I’m scrolling through show him with a woman either. I also don’t notice a ring on his finger.

  I click the Wikipedia link on him, hoping that will give me something, but it lists him as single. Interesting. Maybe they’re keeping a low profile on it or something. I feel a trace of guilt for the attraction I felt when I first saw the picture of Brooks. He belongs to someone else. I need to remember that. I’ve never once had thoughts like that before about a client. It’s a little unsettling. I’ve also never had an instant attraction to a man either. Normally I have to force myself to go on dates, hoping that one will maybe grow over time. But it never does.

  I look up when I hear the bus driver call my stop. I put my phone away and exit. It’s only a short walk to the doctor’s office, and I stand outside looking up at the building. I’m not as excited as I thought I would be. Something doesn’t feel right. Whe
n I was a little girl and I played with my dolls, this was never how I saw this happening. I shake my head at myself, trying to shake off the pity party I’m having for myself.

  I walk into the doctor’s office, pasting on a smile I don’t feel. I fill out the paperwork and go through all the motions, but I swear I’m not taking it in. It isn’t until the doctor sets down a pile of folders in front of me that I finally snap out of the trance I’d fallen under.

  “These are possible donors,” she tells me, sliding the folders towards me. I hesitate for a moment before reaching out and taking them. I sit there with them, but I don’t open any. “Take them home and look over them. If you have any questions, feel free to call or shoot me an email,” she adds.

  “Thank you,” I respond, not looking at her. My eyes are still locked on the folders. I don’t want to pick them up.

  “We’ll have your test results back soon and I’ll call you then,” the doctor says, then stands. I follow suit, knowing I have to take these folders with me. I finally reach out and grab them, pulling them to my chest. I wish I’d brought a bigger bag with me. The doctor must read my face because she opens a drawer and takes out a bag for me to place the files into.

  “Thanks,” I tell her as we exit her office. When I step out onto the busy street I feel nothing like I thought I would. I thought I’d be more excited, but it feels more like a realization that I’m not getting the life that I’d always dreamed about.