A Billionaire and a Baby

by Marie Ferrarella

  “Nine,” the nurse answered. “Every night like clockwork.”

  The woman made it sound as if she made it a point to be in the area, she thought. Well, maybe next time around, Sherry would, too.

  Later that same day Sherry gingerly eased herself out of Lori’s car. Her bottom still felt a little sore if she sat for more then ten minutes at a time. She couldn’t wait to get back to her old self.

  Closing the passenger door, she looked at her former Lamaze instructor. “I really appreciate the lift, Lori.”

  Lori was still in the vehicle. She needed to park the car. She’d just stopped at the front entrance to shorten the distance for Sherry.

  “Don’t thank me, I had to come here, anyway.” She leaned out the window as Sherry rounded the hood of the car. “You have someone to pick you up? Because I can double back later after class if you don’t.”

  Sherry shook her head. “I’ll be fine. I’m going to call my father when I’m finished.”

  Lori nodded, taking the car out of park. Her foot still hovered on the brake. “Come by and join us for ice cream next week. The Mom Squad just isn’t the same without you.” She did a quick calculation. “You should be able to drive by then.”

  Sherry missed seeing the group, especially Chris and Joanna. They and Lori had gotten together and bought her a beautiful hand-carved crib, delivering it to her parents’ house the day she’d left the hospital. Her father had transported it to her house today. Her parents were there now, putting it together. If she knew them, they were butting heads as to how it should be done. She was far better off here.

  Sherry smiled broadly. “I’d love to.”

  “Good, see you at the ice-cream parlor.” Lori waved, taking off to the parking lot. “I hope they tell you that you can take him home tomorrow,” she called out.

  Sherry turned away and walked in through Blair’s electronic doors. There was no chance of that. The physician who had come by later this afternoon had confirmed the nurse’s prognosis. She’d already been by twice today, once when Owen had dropped her off and once with her mother. This time around she wasn’t here just to see her son, but her son’s “uncle” as well. If Adair actually showed up tonight.

  She still had her doubts.

  They disappeared when she stepped out on the floor and made her way to the neonatal ward. Approaching the bay window, she saw a tall man standing in the dimmed corridor light.

  Adair.

  Damn it, this just wasn’t making any sense. From everything she’d gleaned about him, he was an incredibly busy man who was forced to schedule every breath he took. What was he doing here?

  She echoed the question aloud as she drew closer. “What are you doing here?”

  He glanced in her direction as if he’d expected her to show up. Was clairvoyance to be added to his repertoire?

  “It’s a free country, Ms. Campbell, and I am over the age of eighteen.” He turned back to look at the babies in the ward. Babies who were struggling for what everyone else took for granted. Life. “Unless I break the law, I am not accountable for my actions to anyone—” he slanted a look at her again “—not even a woman as lovely as you.”

  She couldn’t say why the compliment didn’t bounce off her the way so many others did. Instead, it seemed to find a crack and seep in, warming her when she didn’t want to be warmed.

  “Maybe not accountable,” she allowed, crossing her arms before her, “but a few explanations might be in order.”

  He had to admit there was something magnificent about her when she tossed her head that way. He was reminded of a painting he’d once seen of St. Joan decked out in full battle regalia, ready to uphold the honor of God and country.

  “I—”

  She wasn’t about to let him veer off the track and he had that look about him. Like a man who was just about to charm the socks off a barefoot woman. Suddenly, she saw what every other woman saw in him. “Like why did you pay my hospital bill?”

  He shrugged vaguely, his broad shoulders moving comfortably beneath his navy jacket. “Act of charity.”

  He’d pressed the wrong button. Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t need charity.”

  “Act of kindness, then.” He pinned her with a look, beginning to wonder about the woman who had attempted to beard him in his den, who would risk uncomfortable surroundings just to get what she was after. “You can’t tell me you don’t need kindness. I’m of the opinion that most people need kindness.”

  The sentiment oddly echoed her mother’s. Who would have thought they were of like mind? No one, because they weren’t. He was after something; she was sure of it. “Like you?”

  The smile slowly curved his lips. Why hadn’t she noticed how sensuous they were before?

  “I’m not most people,” he replied.

  She forced her mind back on business. That was what this man was all about, business. “But you wouldn’t be averse to kindness. Perhaps you think that paying my hospital bill and my son’s hospital bill will buy me off?”

  His expression sobered, wiping away all traces of any smile that might have existed. “I am not in the habit of explaining myself, just as I’m not in the habit of buying people off.” Feeling charitable, he shared a little of his business philosophy with her. It had stood him in good stead in his private life, as well. “People you can buy off are too cheap to want to keep.”

  “Very profound,” she inclined her head. When she raised it again, her eyes pinned him to the window. “So exactly why did you pay my bill?”

  It had been a whim, pure and simple. He had no better explanation for it. But he couldn’t afford to let it get around that he was governed by things that weren’t grounded in cold, hard reasoning.

  “You’re my first delivery. I was feeling generous.” Most women would have let it go at that. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Ms. Campbell.”

  She didn’t like being dismissed. “The Greeks didn’t and it got them in a whole lot of trouble.”

  The remark made him smile again, almost against his will. “You’re not Greek.”

  “I’m also not naive, Mr. Adair.” If she knew nothing else about him, she knew that he didn’t do anything without a reason. She wanted to know what it was. “There is no free lunch and you can’t get something for nothing. Now what is it that you want?”

  No good deed went unpunished, he thought again. Served him right for being impulsive.

  “Ideally?” There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “Peace in our time.” She wanted a reason, all right, he’d give her one, even if it hadn’t been the one behind his actions. “If not peace in our time, then no more of this kind of reporting.” He took a folded sheet of newspaper out of his pocket and handed it to her.

  It wasn’t a newspaper, she realized, it was the front page of one of the supermarket tabloids she blocked out whenever she shopped. Her eyes widened as she read the headline: Adair Flies Mistress and Secret Love Child to Hospital.

  Mrs. Farley had brought this to his attention. The look in the older woman’s eyes had been anger. A similar one was entering Campbell’s eyes. You couldn’t fake that kind of a response, he judged.

  “I see by the look on your face that you didn’t leak the story to this rag.”

  Crumpling the page in her hand, she stared at him. How dare he even think that? He dared, a small voice whispered, because he didn’t know her and because she’d followed him to his haven, invading it. What did she expect?

  Sherry struggled to put a lid on her anger. “I’m a serious journalist, Mr. Adair, not a gossipmonger.”

  He found himself wanting to hear her calling him by his first name. The thought had come out of nowhere, and he promptly returned it there.

  “Serious journalist,” he echoed. “Do serious journalists write about how the Hathaway twins have made good in their transition from child stars to adult sensations?”

  He’d read her article? Or just the headline? In either case she didn’t see him as the type to even
know that section of the newspaper existed.

  “They do if they’re trying to work their way up into getting a serious byline. My editor gives me an assignment. I do it.” She saw a hint of a smirk take over his lips. He obviously didn’t believe her. “Besides, if you read the article, all my facts were correct and, unlike you, my subjects weren’t hostile.”

  She didn’t strike him as the obedient type, job or no job. “They were also young and welcomed publicity.”

  She gave him a long, measuring look. He was how old? Thirty-three? He made himself sound years older than that. “You’re not exactly Mr. Wilson—” She could see what he was thinking. “And I’m not Dennis the Menace.”

  He laughed. The sound wasn’t off-putting. “Matter of opinion, Ms. Campbell, matter of opinion.”

  She was getting sidetracked. By his laugh, by his smile and his manner. She was definitely off her game, but she intended to make a comeback. Now. “I can pay my own bills, Adair. I’m not exactly from the wrong side of the tracks.”

  He nodded. The mistake had been his. He should have left well enough alone. “No, you’re very comfortable, very bright when it comes to investing your money. Admirably frugal, too.”

  Her eyes widened again. “You had me checked out?”

  It took effort not to be mesmerized by the blue orbs. “How does it feel to have the shoe on the other foot? Pinches, doesn’t it?”

  He was comparing apples and oranges. “I don’t merit national attention for doing what I do.”

  He could beg to differ. She’d been a local celebrity, eased out of her job, he’d discovered, because of her condition. He had to admit he admired her spirit, if not her vocation.

  “And I do.” It wasn’t a question.

  “I’m afraid it goes with the territory you’ve picked out for yourself,” Sherry said, relenting, thinking of how kind he’d been to her while she was giving birth. Like it or not, there was a soft spot in her heart because of that. “Why do you want people to think you’re this dark-hearted ogre?”

  “Because people have a healthy respect for ogres.” And kept a decent distance away from them, he added silently.

  “That’s fear, not respect,” she corrected.

  He inclined his head. Semantics. “That works for me, too.”

  “You want people to fear you?”

  “I want people to keep out of my private life.”

  She read between the lines and placed herself in his position. She wouldn’t have been able to put up with it. Her world was filled with people. People she cared about. “Must be lonely.”

  The note of pity in her voice took him by surprise. And offended him. The last time anyone had pitied him was Mrs. Farley. He’d been fourteen years old. “That is for me to know—and you not to find out.” He had someplace else to be. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to call it a night.”

  There was no hesitation on her part. She recognized opportunity even when it tiptoed in rather than knocked. “Could you drop me off?”

  She’d managed to catch him off guard. But just for a moment. “You really do have a hell of a lot of nerve, don’t you?”

  Her smile was wide. “No argument.”

  “Finally.” And then he sighed. “All right, come on, I’ll take you home.” Already on his way to the elevator, he slanted a look at her. “And I’d stop smiling smugly if I were you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  There was a grin in her voice a mile wide. Sin-Jin didn’t trust himself to comment.

  Chapter Eight

  He drove fast. It didn’t surprise her. A man like Adair—intense, goal oriented—would drive fast. He would do most things fast.

  Would he make love fast, too?

  The thought sneaked up on her, but she pushed it aside. It wasn’t remotely part of her research. She blamed it on the song playing in his CD player and the crumpled tabloid headline in her pocket.

  The music wasn’t filling up the spaces. On the contrary, the interior of the Mercedes was getting smaller with each mile that passed by.

  Sherry cleared her throat. “I didn’t think you listened to music.”

  The statement brought the slightest curve to his lips. “Did you think I listened to all-news stations all the time?”

  “Not while you slept.”

  “Culture has a definite place in the world.” He spared her a glance. “It refines people, nurtures their souls.”

  That sounded incredibly lofty. Sherry ventured a guess. “Lulls them into a state of tranquility so that you can take them over more easily?”

  “So my competitors say.”

  “I didn’t think you had competitors.”

  He slanted another glance in her direction a moment before he merged into the extreme right-hand lane. “Flattery isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

  “Not flattery, observation.”

  The car ahead of him was moving too slowly; he changed lanes quickly. “More flattery.”

  “You’re a hard man to talk to.”

  He checked his mirrors, then changed lanes again, moving back into the lane he’d just vacated. “So I’ve been told.”

  They were almost there. She didn’t remember ever making the trip so quickly. “You’re going to need to take the Jeffrey Road off-ramp.” It was coming up within a matter of seconds.

  He was already easing onto the off-ramp. A red light at the end prevented him from making a smooth transition onto the thoroughfare. “I know where you live, remember?”

  She knew he’d sent the vehicle she’d left stranded on the mountain to her address, but she hadn’t expected him to actually recall what it was. “With all the things you have to remember? I’m impressed.”

  He shrugged off the comment. “Don’t be. I have a photographic memory.”

  Another personal tidbit. She wondered if he realized that he was opening up to her, however slightly. She baited him, recalling a recent article she’d read.

  “Scientists maintain there’s no such thing, that it’s simply a matter of teaching yourself how to memorize things.”

  The light turned green. He pressed the accelerator. The road before him stretched out with a smattering of traffic. “Scientists have been known to be wrong.”

  “So how does that work, you look at something and zap, it’s stuck in your mind forever?”

  He had no idea how it worked, only that he could recall anything at will. He used it like a tool. “Something like that.”

  She shook her head, trying to imagine what that was like. “Must get awfully crowded in there.”

  He smiled. The woman just didn’t give up attempting to coax information out of him. Since it did no harm, he indulged her. “I manage.”

  “All right.” Sherry shifted in her seat to look at him. “Let’s see if it works. What’s the name of the first girl you ever kissed?”

  It was time to stop indulging. “Clever, but no cigar.”

  They’d reached their destination. He pulled up in front of her house and turned toward her. The street-light standing before the house next door to hers scattered just enough light into his vehicle to dance along only part of her face, highlighting it. Something stirred within him, nudging curiosity forward.

  Getting out of the car, he rounded the hood and went to the passenger side. He opened the door, taking her hand as she got out.

  She found herself standing much too close to the man. Neither of them took a step away.

  “I’d rather tell you the name of the next woman I’m going to kiss,” he said.

  There was something hypnotic about his eyes. “Does she know?”

  His smile was slow, drifting under her skin. They both knew what he was saying. “I’ve got a feeling that she might have a good idea.”

  Sherry felt her heart accelerating. She became aware that she had stopped breathing, and forced air back into her lungs. “Doesn’t that constitute bribery or conflict of interest or something like that?”

  Sin-Jin moved her hair away from he
r shoulder, exposing her neck. “You’re the reporter, you tell me.”

  Her heart was now doing some serious beating. She wondered if he could see it vibrating in her throat. “I suppose it could be seen as research.”

  “Whose?”

  The word skimmed along her skin, teasing her. Tantalizing her. “Mine,” she breathed.

  His smile broadened. “Whatever works for you.”

  Sin-Jin dove his fingers into her hair, framing her face with his hands. He paused a fraction of a moment, looking at her.

  “Memorizing my face?” she asked, surprised that at this point, she could even form words. Everything within her was holding its breath.

  “I don’t need to.” The next moment, before she could ask why, Sin-Jin brought his lips down to hers.

  Sherry wasn’t sure just exactly what she was expecting. Maybe disappointment. No one could live up to the buildup she’d just created in her mind.

  She didn’t find it. Disappointment had left the building on winged feet.

  The one thing she hadn’t expected was to be affected, not to this extent. She’d bounced back fairly well from her pregnancy in the past couple of days, so she couldn’t blame the weakness she felt in her knees on anything remotely postpartum.

  She had to put the blame exactly where it belonged. On the lips of the man kissing her.

  After Drew had walked out on her, she had been convinced that she would never feel anything, physical or emotional, for a man again. It was far too painful to expose yourself that way, to hand yourself up, naked and wanting, to another human being. She’d closed off all ports of entry to her soul and had thrown away the keys.

  Somehow, they’d been found again.

  Without thinking it through, Sherry leaned into the kiss. Into Sin-Jin. Savoring the wildfire that was suddenly ignited within her.

  She knew to the moment the last time she’d been kissed.