Baby Under the Christmas Tree

by Teresa Carpenter

  Max homed in on her. “You okay?”

  She shuddered under his direct regard, but lifted her chin and answered smoothly. “Of course.”

  His dark gaze ran over her, checking her out for himself. He nodded. “Let’s go.”

  “My car is at the bar.” Jaden managed to slur and whine at the same time. Not an easy feat.

  “And you can thank your lucky ass for that. If I ever hear of you driving drunk, I’ll make sure your butt rides the bench for the whole season.”

  “No, huh,” Jaden blustered. “You don’t have that kind of say-so.”

  “No.” Max’s smile held an edge of malice. “But you can’t play with your leg in a cast.”

  Jaden paled. “Don’t be joking, man. A break can end a career.”

  “And driving drunk can end a life. I have no problem making that decision for you.”

  “Gentlemen.” Elle stepped forward, intent on taking control of the situation. “It’s three-fifteen in the morning. Can you put the equipment away so we can go home? One of us has to work in a few hours.”

  Max waved his arm in an after-you gesture. “Lead the way. You don’t mind giving us a ride, right?”

  “I’m going to tell coach.” Jaden stomped ahead of them. Then he stopped and swung around, his unsure balance almost tripping him up. “You’re my witness Ms. A. You heard him threaten me.”

  “No,” she denied and looked both ways before crossing the street to her car. “I heard him offer you a life lesson.” And, oh, how it hurt to defend the man. “If you have two licks of sense, you’ll listen to him. And you’ll be benched before he can ever get to you if you mention this incident to Coach.”

  She unlocked her red car and they all climbed in. Reaching for her seat belt, she glanced at Max and saw he had anchored himself in. She nodded when she heard Jaden’s belt click and only then did she start the car.

  “Drop Jaden first.” Max directed her once they reached the five freeway. And then he turned to the man in the backseat. “You better tell her the rest.”

  Elle got a bad feeling and her gaze flicked to the rearview mirror. Jaden was one big scowl. He muttered something under his breath.

  “What?”

  “I may have—” He cleared his throat. “I kind of, ah, could have—” Cough. “Thrown the first punch.”

  “Jaden, Jaden.” She sighed as her mind raced. The news was as bad as she feared. She could only hope the damage was minimal to both man and property. “That’s an automatic ten-thousand-dollar penalty.”

  Narrowing her eyes at Max, she reached past him for the digital recorder in the glove box. “This is your fault.”

  “How do you figure?” His gaze rose from her cleavage to meet her eyes. And he lifted one dark brow.

  “You took him drinking.”

  “It wasn’t only me. Plus he’s his own man now. Didn’t you hear him?”

  She ground her teeth together. Of course he took no responsibility. She turned her attention to Jaden, demanding he tell her everything he remembered.

  He protested that it had happened too fast and he didn’t remember anything, but she kept after him until he told the whole story. By then they were at his place. She turned to face him before he got out.

  “Tomorrow I want you to go through it again, write it down. And be in my office at ten o’clock.”

  He groaned but nodded, and then climbed from the car. She watched until he was safely inside.

  Luckily the fifteen-minute ride from Jaden’s Fashion Valley condo to Max’s Mount Helix home concluded in silence. In fact, Elle thought Max had dozed off, but it appeared he had nothing more to say to her than she had to say to him because he immediately opened his eyes and reached for the door latch when she pulled into the driveway next to his vehicle.

  She rolled her eyes and sighed, ready for the night to be over. The dash clock read 3:45 a.m., which meant she should make it home by four.

  Max climbed from the car while she debated the merits of going back to bed against getting a jump on the Jaden issue.

  “Thanks,” he bent to say before slamming the door.

  Yeah, right. Mr. Glib he wasn’t. At least it was an acknowledgment, and considering the weariness in his voice she figured she was lucky to get that. With home in mind she put the car in Reverse and waited for Max to get to his door.

  He’d barely cleared her front hood when a car lurched to a stop behind her, effectively blocking the driveway. She frowned at the rearview mirror, not at all surprised he had some young thing on call at this time of the morning.

  Annoyed, Elle put the car in Park and stepped out.

  “Excuse me,” she said to the slim brunette who jumped out of the vehicle. “I’m leaving if you could let me out.”

  “Forget it,” the woman snapped. “I’ve been waiting for hours.” She pulled open the back door and bent into the car.

  Elle turned to Max. “Can you tell your girlfriend to move? It’s been a long night.”

  He flicked her an annoyed glance.

  “Hey,” Max called out as he walked down the drive to join Elle. “Can I help you?”

  The woman reappeared, holding something she had lifted from the backseat. “This is the last time I’m doing a favor for Amber. She was supposed to be back yesterday. She gave me your info but said not to contact you. But she’s not answering her phone. And neither were you.” Carrying a bundled-up trench coat, she stormed up the drive and thrust the coat at Max. “I’ve been waiting here since one. I was about to give up and take Troy to the cops when you pulled in.”

  “Amber left him with you? Where’s her mom?”

  “Vegas. Amber can find someone else next time.” She returned to the car and came back with a backpack that she pushed into Elle’s arms. “I have an interview in the morning. I’m going to have rings under my eyes the size of duffel bags.”

  With a huff, the brunette rounded the vehicle, got behind the wheel and drove off.

  Elle looked at Max. “What just happened here?”

  The coat in Max’s arms shifted and the material dropped to reveal a blond head of hair. Not a trench coat, but a small child.

  “A baby?”

  “Meet my son, Troy.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  “YOU HAVE A CHILD?” Totally appalled, Elle stared in fascination at the boy who looked about two. He gazed from her to Max with a growing scowl. How was it possible she didn’t know he had a child? “Poor kid.”

  “Nice.” Max’s frown was a near mirror of the boy’s and the resemblance made her blink.

  In that space of time Max turned and walked toward the house. An automatic light came on as he neared the brick pathway that led to the front door.

  Elle hesitated, because really a young child in Max’s care seemed such an oddity she couldn’t wrap her mind around it. On the other hand, it was late and totally not her business. And given their history it would be a total mistake to get involved.

  Decided, she made a move toward her car and the bulk of the boy’s bag shifted in her arms.

  Muttering a curse under her breath, she stomped to the front door intending to knock and hand over the backpack. But the door stood open and no one was in sight. Good. She set the backpack inside and reached for the doorknob.

  A scream rang out. Followed quickly by another and another.

  Elle shut the door and ran toward the sound.

  Down the hall she came into the kitchen. Max stoo
d at a large island while Troy shrieked and tried to climb down the other side.

  “He’s going to fall.” She raced around the island and scooped up the toddler before her prediction proved true.

  Troy shrieked and struck out blindly with one bony fist.

  The swing packed quite a punch and only instincts honed by being the only girl with four brothers saved her from a black eye.

  “Wow. He is your kid, isn’t he?”

  The scowl on Max’s face turned sharp and mean. “I don’t hit women.”

  No. She had to admit that was one thing he’d never been accused of, and for all their differences she’d never felt physically threatened by him.

  “No, but you do have a temper and you do strike out. What did you do to him?” she challenged.

  “Not a damn thing. I wouldn’t have let him fall,” Max stated. “He’s mad because he got woken up. He screams when he’s tired or in a temper.”

  “Lovely.” The boy struggled in her arms, but she murmured to him as she made her way to the sink. “Where are your glasses?”

  Max pointed to a cupboard.

  Filling a tumbler half-full, she offered the cup to Troy. He stopped fighting to grab the glass in two hands and drink. Finally he pushed the cup back at her and, breath hitching, demanded, “Donna!”

  “Mama went bye-bye,” she told him, “but Daddy’s here.”

  “He said Donna. She’s his grandmother, the one who’s in Las Vegas.”

  Troy looked at Max, his lower lip trembled and he started to scream again. Her ears rang from the high-pitched cries.

  “How long will this go on? Someone’s likely to call the cops.” Her boss would love that.

  “Nah. The house is soundproofed.”

  At her bemused response, he elaborated. “I bought it that way. It cuts down on the freeway noise. And I’ve seen him scream like that for an hour. I’ve tried everything I can think of to stop him, but the truth is nothing has worked.”

  “What about his mother? Do you think you can find her?” She hummed softly and rocked gently back and forth, hoping the soothing actions would penetrate the boy’s distress.

  “Her cell is off. I left a message but if she didn’t answer her friend’s calls, she doesn’t want to be found. Probably off with some sugar daddy. I also tagged his grandmother. Donna is the one who usually watches him. I’m sure I’ll hear from her in the morning.”

  “Does this happen often?” How could a mother leave her kid with someone and not come home?

  “A few times.”

  “And you’re okay with that?”

  An icy blue glare, sharp as his skate blades, cut her short.

  “Right.” She held out a hand. “Let me see your phone.”

  “Why?” He reached into his back pocket for his cell.

  “I’m going to get the babysitter’s name.” She exchanged Troy for the phone and walked into the living room to make the call. She quickly accessed his call records and hit the call-back key.

  A few minutes later she returned to the kitchen where Max leaned against the refrigerator and Troy sat in the middle of the island. Definitely not a happy duo.

  “You owe Candi Evans a hundred dollars.” She handed him his phone. “I’ll email you her address.”

  “Was that necessary?”

  “Yes. She wouldn’t give me her name until I told her you wanted to express your appreciation for her bringing Troy to you. A hundred should do it.”

  “And we needed her data why?”

  “You never know. But now we have it if we need it.”

  “For a hundred bucks.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Listen, can you watch him for a few minutes?”

  “You’re kidding me.” The man had nerve. “I have to be up in two hours. You’ll probably roll out of bed around three this afternoon.”

  “Come on,” he cajoled her. “Just long enough for me to take a shower. I want to wash the stink of the jail off.”

  She sighed, unable to begrudge him a shower. “Okay. You have ten minutes, then I’m out of here.”

  He grinned, flashing his famous dimple, and chucked her under the chin. “You’re a peach, Ellie.”

  She swatted his hand away with a glower, her bad mood made worse at her automatic response to that sexy dimple. Something about that indentation made her knees weak. “Don’t call me Ellie.”

  But she was talking to his back as he loped for the stairs. Mmm. He was grace in motion.

  Annoyed she’d noticed, she turned her attention to the two-year-old. “Sorry to tell you this, kid, but your dad is a jerk.”

  “Jerk,” Troy echoed, making Elle cringe. Exactly what she needed, for Max, The Beast, to complain to her boss that she was teaching his kid to call him a jerk. Even if he was one.

  Thinking of her boss, she moved to the living room and set Troy down next to her on the gray leather couch. A formal room done in classic shades of black, gray and silver, its shining central jewel was the large, mirror-polished black grand piano. For show, no doubt.

  “Nice, but I just can’t visualize The Beast playing ‘Chopsticks.’” Not many sports stars were into classical music. Not in her experience. Which was one reason why she didn’t date sports enthusiasts, especially sports stars. To get where they were meant devoting their lives to the sport. She wanted more from life than the next win.

  Digging out her phone, she texted Ray Dumond about the events of the night.

  Troy slid off the couch and began flipping through a magazine on the table-size ottoman. He crumpled pages and ripped a few here and there, but it kept him occupied and he wasn’t screaming so she let him play. He looked up and grinned and she just wanted to pick him up and hug him.

  Oh, no. She hardened her heart against the sweetness of his smile. No getting attached to the little beastie. Her time in his life was definitely temporary.

  But she did feel for the little guy. She took such joy from her young niece and nephews that it hurt her to think of any child suffering. And neither of Troy’s parents were exactly winners in her eyes.

  Her phone rang. Her boss. That was quick. She hadn’t expected to hear from him for a couple of hours. She answered and filled in the details he asked for. They worked out a strategy for the morning, then disconnected.

  She yawned and blinked, really wishing she had time to get in at least an hour’s sleep before hitting the office at a run. A glance at her watch showed it had been twenty minutes since Max had trotted off to the shower. That was it. She’d done all she had time for tonight.

  “Come on, kid.” She swooped up Troy and headed for the stairs. “I hope Daddy’s decent because ready or not, here you come.”

  On the upper landing she listened for the shower but heard nothing. Turning left she walked down the hall, looking in doors until she found the master suite. And found Max sprawled facedown on a king-size bed.

  Just wonderful. Thankfully he’d pulled on a pair of knit boxers, which saved her modesty if not his. The soft fabric clinging to his taut backside did little to disguise his assets.

  Her gaze rolled over his long, muscular frame as she carried Troy to the bed. For all his sins, the man had one fine body. The problem was he knew it, and used it. Luckily, she was immune.

  She’d never been attracted to Neanderthals.

  Okay, that was a lie. Sometimes she just wanted to shimmy up that hard body and sink her teeth into his lower lip.

  And then he’d open his mouth and save
her from herself. Thank goodness.

  Plus she’d learned her lesson where he was concerned.

  It killed her that she found him so attractive. Especially as she’d vowed to find a man with more going on in his life than a love of sports.

  She knew people thought her a tad unyielding when it came to her stance on men and sports. They didn’t understand. Not even her own family understood. She’d had a good childhood, had been, and still was, well loved. But she’d been a girlie girl in a household of athletes.

  From the stroller on, she’d been dragged from one brother’s sporting event to another, often going to two games in the same day. Sure she enjoyed a good game, but she also wanted to learn how to cook, to paint, to play the drums and go to dance class. She liked to shop and get her nails done. She longed for conversation that didn’t include a play-by-play of game highlights.

  She’d spent too many years sacrificing her desires to the demand of the majority to easily surrender her future to the overwhelming call of the game.

  So, no jocks for her. She wanted, she deserved, a man with varied interests, a man who enjoyed the symphony or the opera, who liked to read and go to the theater, who liked to hike and wasn’t afraid of the mall.

  Finding one was the problem.

  Pulling her gaze from the father, she turned back the covers and tucked the son into the bed as best she could, considering Max was on the outside of the brown comforter.

  Troy looked at her with big blue eyes. “Donna?”

  Her heart broke a little for the tiny fellow. She smoothed the sheet over his chest.

  “Donna and Mama went bye-bye. You’re going night-night with Daddy.”

  “Don’t wan’ Daddy. Wan’ Donna.”

  Elle didn’t blame him. Was there anyone less qualified to raise a child than Max Beasley?

  Knowing nothing of the kind, she said, “I’m sure they’ll be back soon. If you go to sleep, Mama might even be here when you wake up.”

  “Night-night?”

  “Yes, close your eyes and everything will be better tomorrow.” At least she hoped so. The kid deserved better from both his parents.