Gift-wrapped family
San Diego hockey team’s PR director Elle Austin goes beyond the call of duty to keep their rebel captain in check—even playing nanny to his son!
Max Beasley knows nothing about looking after a baby, so he enlists Elle’s help after little Troy is left on his doorstep by his irresponsible ex.
Maybe it’s the spirit of Christmas, or seeing Max’s softer side, but Elle wishes he saw her as more than just an employee, and that they could give Troy the best gift of all—a family!
“I’m going to bring Troy to live with me. Ray said you’d help me.”
Elle stopped and spun around. “Are you serious?” She didn’t know whether to applaud his decision or be worried for Troy’s welfare.
“Dead serious.” He glanced around to where Troy squirmed under the covers. “Will you help?”
Elle bit her lip and reluctantly nodded. For Troy’s sake, she’d help Max. She really had no choice if Ray had already committed her.
“I’ll talk to Ray. We’ll put together a plan. But first I need to go home to shower and change.”
“You can do that here,” he insisted. “I’m sure I can find something for you to wear.”
“No, thank you.” She continued on her journey toward freedom.
His hand wrapped around hers, derailing her escape.
“Max! Stop it.” She pushed at his shoulders. “Are you insane?”
“I was hoping to change your mind about leaving.”
“Well, you haven’t.” She tried to step back, but his arms tightened as he stared into her eyes.
“Come on, Elle, we both know the animosity between us is a defense against an inconvenient attraction.”
“I know nothing of the kind.”
She refused to accept that the sizzle between them held any depth. Even if she agreed with him, there were too many complications for them ever to consider acting on a mutual attraction.
Praise for Teresa Carpenter
“Teresa Carpenter’s Her Baby, His Proposal makes an oft-used premise work brilliantly through skilled plotting, deft characterization and just the right amount of humor.”
—RT Book Reviews
“This is a fun read with lovable characters whose situation is emotionally compelling and believable.”
—RT Book Reviews on The Boss’s Surprise Son
“The writing brings to life a lot of heart, emotion and feelings that make this contemporary romance shine and readers should find what they’re looking for when they want a quality romance.”
—Long and Short Reviews Romance on The Sheriff’s Doorstep Baby
Teresa Carpenter
Baby Under the Christmas Tree
Teresa Carpenter believes in the power of unconditional love, and that there’s no better place to find it than between the pages of a romance novel. Reading is a passion for Teresa—a passion that led to a calling. She began writing more than twenty years ago, and marks the sale of her first book as one of her happiest memories. Teresa gives back to her craft by volunteering her time to Romance Writers of America on a local and national level.
A fifth-generation Californian, she lives in San Diego, within miles of her extensive family, and knows that with their help she can accomplish anything. She takes particular joy and pride in her nieces and nephews, who are all bright, fit, shining stars of the future. If she’s not at a family event, you’ll usually find her at home—reading, writing or playing with her adopted Chihuahua, Jefe.
Books by Teresa Carpenter
THE SHERIFF’S DOORSTEP BABY
THE PLAYBOY’S GIFT
SHERIFF NEEDS A NANNY
THE BOSS’S SURPRISE SON
Other titles by this author available in ebook format.
For RWA San Diego, the best RWA chapter in the world.
Now 30 years strong.
For all the members past and present who have helped me to get where I am today.
Thank you for being my friends, my colleagues, my fans. The journey isn’t over yet.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Excerpt
PROLOGUE
ELLE AUSTIN SAT very still in the corner of her bunk, knees tucked up to her chest under the yellow satin of her Belle princess dress. Retreating from the chaos reigning in the room, she smoothed her hand over the soft material. She loved her Belle dress.
Mama had made the gown just for her and she liked it better than the costume that came with her admission to Princess Camp. Mostly because Mama didn’t do anything girlie, but when her parents had agreed to let Elle come to camp, Mama took a class and made the dress. Elle figured Mama got a lot of help from the teacher, but she didn’t care. Her Belle dress shimmered and flowed and was the most beautiful in camp. Everyone said so.
“What’s wrong, Elle?” Amanda came to sit on the edge of Elle’s bed. Posture straight, hands clasped in her lap amid the full skirt of her Rapunzel dress, Amanda’s serene smile brought a moment’s calm to the chaotic activity dominating the cabin.
Elle wanted to cover her ears but she wasn’t a baby anymore. At eleven she was big enough to come to Princess Camp alone. That meant she was big enough to handle a little friendly bustling.
“Everyone is talking at once.” She forced a smile for Amanda. “How can anyone hear what anyone else is saying?”
“With all your brothers I’d think you’d be used to a lot of noise and activity.”
“I am.” Elle pleated her skirt between tense fingers. She loved her family, knew they loved her, but she often felt the misfit among the athletic, boisterous crowd. She confessed to her friend something she’d never told anyone. “But I don’t like it. It makes me nervous. I like order.”
“Me, too.” Amanda nodded. “But this is fun noise. Everyone is excited about the talent show. They’re just sharing their ideas and claiming their spots.”
“But no one is paying attention.” Wasted noise, wasted energy, it made everything in her go tight. And her stomach hurt.
“I know.” Amanda stood and wound her way through the six girls dancing and twirling in the middle of the room. At her bunk she bent and pulled a book out of her backpack. A minute later she was back and handing Elle the book, which was actually a journal, and a purple pen.
“For you. To take down what everyone is saying. My grandmother says organization is the foundation of greatness. And my grandfather says chaos is merely random patterns that need to be put in order.”
“I can take notes.” Elle sat forward and took the book. She didn’t really want to try to make sense of the excited chatter, but it had to be better than hiding in the corner. Amanda and Michelle were so pretty and so smart. Elle refused to be a sissy baby in front of them.
S
he nodded and began to listen for the different voices, pulling individuals out of the mix. Michelle first; her melodic voice made her easy to discern.
Elle noted her friend’s choice of singing a song from Sleeping Beauty. Of course.
Next the Little Mermaid twins were enthusing together about a tap-dance routine.
Cinderella wanted to talk costumes.
And Mulan did a kick as she announced she’d be doing martial arts.
Elle bent over the pad, quickly taking down all the ideas she heard. Soon she had lots of notes and her stomach didn’t hurt anymore. No longer curled into the corner, she sat on the edge of the bed directing the action as a plan began to emerge.
Elle liked plans.
Amanda smiled and Elle grinned back, happy to have order restored.
CHAPTER ONE
THE RING OF THE PHONE made Elle sit straight up in bed. Blinking, she glanced at the clock. Twenty till two in the morning. Family or work? At this hour neither was good.
Still she prayed for work as she flipped on the light and reached for her cell phone. Usually that only meant a trip downtown to a bail bondsman, not large-scale injuries, which were the only reason family would be calling.
She scanned for caller ID but it was an unknown number. No clue there.
“Hello,” she said briskly, cringing when her voice came out sleep-husky instead.
“Ellie,” a deep voice drawled, relieving her of worry over family, and swinging all that anxiety over to annoyance at the caller. “I hope I woke you and didn’t catch you in the middle of something more interesting.”
“Maxwell.” Of course. Max “The Beast” Beasley, enforcer for the San Diego Thunder hockey team and her personal nemesis. And a man who had no right to question her nighttime activities. “I suppose this means you’re in jail?”
“Me and a few of the guys. We went out for drinks to celebrate Jaden’s twenty-first birthday. It got a little out of hand.”
“Is anyone hurt?”
“Babe, define hurt. We take a bigger beating on the ice.”
“Don’t call me babe. Or Ellie. My name is Elle. Or Ms. Austin to you.”
“So harsh,” he idly rebuked her. “Maybe you need something interesting going at two in the morning to loosen you up a little.”
That stung.
“Careful, Maxwell, or the only thing you’ll be cozying up to tonight is your cell mate.”
“Ellie, you tease. We both know that won’t happen.”
She gritted her teeth as the line went dead. He was right of course. This was part of her job, the annoying part. Being Deputy Public Relations Director meant she got the late-night calls when the players played hard in public and needed bailing out of trouble.
She might wish Max Beasley would be traded to some Siberian league, but if she wanted her boss’s job when he retired next year, she needed to keep The Beast happy.
She threw on jeans, a purple sweater and flat-heeled boots. After sweeping her dark red hair into a sleek ponytail, she put on a dusting of makeup. And then glared into her light brown eyes, disgusted with herself for primping.
There was no one to impress tonight, certainly not a six-foot-two blond with midnight-blue eyes, a dashing dimple in his right cheek and a sexy scar on his chin.
It took fifteen minutes to get from Elle’s Lake Murray condo to the jail in downtown San Diego. This time of the morning she could probably do it in half that time, but preferring not to join the players behind bars, she held to the speed limit.
A complete rule breaker, Max would no doubt sneer at her judicious driving habits. Let him. After all, she was the one bailing him out of jail.
She believed in rules, lists and goals. They’d gotten her where she was. When she’d returned from Princess Camp with a new love of creating order out of chaos, she’d put her new skill to work helping her dad with his sports teams.
It came in handy at San Diego State University where, as well as being a student, she worked as assistant to the athletic director. Part of the job included being the public-relations liaison for all the different sports. She was responsible for coordinating efforts and maximizing promotional opportunities.
She made great contacts at State and at twenty-six she was the deputy director of public relations for a national hockey team. Well on her way to having her own PR firm by the time she turned thirty-five.
She parked on the street across from Smart Bail Bonds and Harry Smart stepped out to meet her.
“Ms. Austin.” He greeted her with a gap-toothed smile. Shorter than average with a round belly covered by a Hawaiian shirt, he had thinning brown hair and a pleasant disposition. He always insisted on walking her to the jail adjacent to the San Diego County Courthouse. “It’s been a while since the boys caused a ruckus. They must be missing their captain. I heard Ian is going to be out for eight weeks.”
“That’s right, but they started out strong, so we have momentum on our side.” Elle forced a smile when she wanted to shake her head. She knew the rules of hockey. Thanks to her brothers she knew the rules to most sports. And it was that knowledge that had earned her a rookie position with the Thunder organization eighteen months ago. And she loved her job, even if she didn’t understand the sport, the sheer violence of it.
She did know the more fights on the ice, the more fans in the stands. The games were battles, the players modern-day gladiators: fierce, competitive, combative, and the harder they fought the more the crowd cheered.
And Maxwell “The Beast” Beasley led the pack.
He was a public-relations dream and nightmare. The public loved his bad-boy persona as long as the team was winning, but when the team took a few losses, the public had little patience for player antics.
Elle avoided the lone-wolf player as much as possible.
Through the window of the bond office she saw a few of the wives and girlfriends of the players he’d led astray tonight.
When The Beast chose to party, everyone wanted to party with him.
But it was a subdued, somewhat sheepish crew turned over to her an hour later. Usually they were still full of themselves, boasting over their deeds and conquests of the night. But there was little chatter as they walked the few blocks to the bond office.
“That’s a pretty nasty cut, Hank.” She eyed the goalie, who sported a crude butterfly bandage over a slash on his cheek. “You should stop at an emergency room on the way home.”
“Nah.” He cleared his throat. “It’s just a scratch.”
“Hmm.” Though his was the worst, all six of the burly men showed battle scars. Her gaze skipped over Max to land on the youngest of the group. At six-six and two-twenty, Jaden was hardly a child, but his downcast eyes and hunched shoulders gave him the look of a sulky teenager. “Happy birthday, Jaden.”
He shrugged. “Thanks.”
“Be nice, Grier.” Max cut the younger man with a cold glare. “She just bailed your butt out of jail.”
“I said thanks,” Jaden snarled back. A slight slur revealed that a couple of hours and a visit to the slammer hadn’t cleared all the alcohol from his system. He sent Elle a sideways look. “I got your card.”
She nodded. Her mother had taught her the power of the greeting card, and Elle plied it zealously. Her goal was to build up a personal connection with the players, because it made it harder for them to turn her down when she needed them for special events. Since she’d joined the team, she’d given every player
a card on his birthday. Except Max.
Cringing slightly she justified the inaction by reminding herself she hadn’t thought of the cards until after his birthday the first year, and last year the team had been out of town. She’d meant to give him his card; she’d just never got around to it.
And then he hadn’t deserved a card.
Still, her mother would call shame on her.
“This night had bad news written all over it from the moment we arrived at the bar and saw junior here had started to party without us.” A voice grumbled from the back. “Kid, you need to learn to pace yourself.”
“I’m not a kid.” Jaden whirled to confront the other man, momentum and unsteadiness putting him right in the defenseman’s face. “I’m an adult.”
“You’re a punk.” The defenseman brought his arm up to brush Jaden aside.
Elle cringed as she saw it developing, and sure enough Jaden pushed back and a shoving match broke out.
No time. She had no time to intervene. No time to get out of the way.
Feeling like a child among giants, Elle expected to be crushed even as she tried to scurry backward.
Suddenly a hard arm swept around her waist, and Max swung them in a one-eighty so he took the brunt of the six-foot-five, two-hundred-seventy-pound wingman smashing into them.
Protected by his bulk she had the impression of massive strength, a hard body, a whiff of spicy aftershave and a huge impact. He didn’t even grunt.
But he cursed a red-white-and-blue streak after setting her safely aside and wading into the center of the fray.
“Idiots. You almost took out Elle. Get your heads straight.” He gave Jaden a hard-eyed stare. “We’ve already put on enough of a show tonight. Get your rides and go home.”
The men quickly dispersed.
Shaken, Elle straightened her jacket and brushed her hands over her hair, ensuring her sleek ponytail was intact.
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