His to Claim

by Shelly Bell

  Her stomach sank and a lump formed in her throat.

  No pressure?

  He was her boss and hadn’t accepted the excuses she’d given him. And despite his so-called reassurance not to fire her if she refused, she couldn’t help but take the words as a veiled threat.

  After leaving his office, Jane made her way back down to her floor and tried to process everything she’d learned from Keane this morning. Between his story about Ryder’s mother and his suggestion that she get close to Ryder in order to fix the relationship between father and son, she couldn’t miss that Keane had been attempting to manipulate her for his own gain.

  While she empathized with Keane’s desperation to make amends with his son, she wouldn’t allow him to use her. The sad thing was she had already spoken highly of Keane to Ryder and would’ve continued to do so had Keane not asked her to do it. The conversation had left her with doubts about her mentor.

  And doubts about herself.

  Had he manipulated her in the past and she’d been blind to it?

  She’d been so sure that Keane hadn’t stolen Ryder’s designs, but what if she was wrong? As vice president of innovation, she was responsible for the department, and any fallout from a theft would fall directly on her shoulders. Then again, why would Keane steal designs from his son if he wanted to reconcile with him?

  She took off her glasses and rubbed her temples. She had to get it together before she hit her floor or everyone would know she was off her game today. She pinched her cheeks, bringing some much-needed color to them, and threw back her shoulders. By the time she walked off that elevator, there wasn’t a sign she was anything but the consummate professional everyone expected.

  The innovation department’s floor was mainly set up in a square configuration, with cubicles in the middle and offices on the outside. Generally, assistants and interns sat in the cubicle closest to the employee they worked under.

  Jane found Evan’s assistant at her desk, typing away with one hand while sniffing into a tissue with the other. Her eyes were teary and her nose was red from crying.

  “Barbara,” she said softly. “I’m so sorry.”

  Barbara Spencer had worked for McKay for more than twenty years in one capacity or another. She knew every member of the board, every manager, and at least half of the employees, which ranged somewhere in the thousands.

  And the scary thing was she remembered all their names.

  Barbara stood and pulled herself together as if she had a spine of steel. “Thank you, Jane. I just can’t believe he’s gone.” She tossed her tissue in the trash. “I’ve arranged to have flowers sent to his wife and offered to help with the funeral. She expects it will probably be on Saturday since it’s Thanksgiving this week and there’s an investigation…” The poor woman crumpled right in front of Jane’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I thought I’d cried my fill already.”

  Jane gave her a much-needed hug. “Why don’t you take the next couple of days off and come back next Monday when we reopen after the holiday?”

  “No. No.” Barbara plucked a tissue from the box on her desk. “I’ll be fine. It will help for me to stay busy. Besides, I’ve never taken an unplanned day off of work in my life. No point starting now.”

  “Mr. McKay asked me to take over Evan’s accounts until we hire a replacement,” Jane told her.

  The coding work was too technical for her to complete, but with a basic background in computers, she’d at least have the ability to see where he was in the process.

  Barbara composed herself and stopped crying. “Evan was pretty protective of his software designs. He and I had a system of where to hide some of the more”—she paused and put a finger to her lips as if trying to come up with the right word—“valuable files.” Nodding, she picked up a framed photo and tapped the back of it. “I’ll download everything onto an SD card for you and get it to you by the end of the day.”

  Jane gave Barbara one last hug and made her way back to her office. She had ten minutes before the rest of the hellish day began. Ten minutes to herself. Ten minutes to remember a time when she didn’t have to be strong. Ten minutes to remember what it was like to lose control in Ryder’s arms.

  She didn’t know why she lost all rationality whenever she was around him. That wasn’t her. No, she was solid. Dependable. Boring. Dreama was the impulsive one. She had the filthy, unbridled sex with strangers. Not Jane. Jane was the one who carefully planned for every possibility before acting. It had once taken her a month to choose a pair of sneakers. And they only went on her feet. Yet she hadn’t hesitated to allow Ryder inside her in the most intimate of ways.

  Settling into her chair, she picked up a photo of Maddox. He deserved a father. Someone who would always be there to catch him when he fell. But was that Ryder?

  She had to give him some credit. He hadn’t demanded a paternity test. He’d actually seemed…excited about the possibility of being a father. But then he’d brought up that crap about keeping Maddox a secret because he needed time. Time for what? A part of her wondered whether she should just go ahead and tell Keane he was Maddox’s grandfather. Why did it matter to her if Ryder didn’t want anyone to know? Maddox wasn’t a pawn to be used in some grudge Ryder had against Keane. If he wasn’t going to have a father, the least she could give him was a family. A grandfather in Keane. An uncle in Finn. A…well, her mother was both his grandmother and aunt. And wouldn’t that mean that Keane was also his step-great-grandfather and Finn his step-grandfather?

  She shook her head at the thought of Maddox’s twisted family tree.

  It didn’t matter.

  All that mattered was that he’d be loved.

  Who was Ryder to deny Maddox that?

  And yet…she couldn’t do it.

  Not after this morning’s conversation with Keane. His attempt to direct her into a relationship with Ryder for his own purposes had shaken her confidence in him. She removed her glasses, placing them on the desk in front of her, and hung her head in her hands.

  If she could maintain her composure at work on a day like this, surely she could keep her hands to herself. Just because she and Ryder had—what had Keane called it?—a “connection,” didn’t mean she and Ryder couldn’t keep their relationship platonic. For Maddox’s sake.

  And for hers.

  Sleeping with Ryder once had been reckless.

  But Saturday night had been a mistake.

  A hot, sweaty, orgasmic mistake.

  One she wouldn’t be repeating.

  She glanced at the clock and gathered the items she needed for her first meeting. Sitting on the edge of her desk, her cell phone chimed with an incoming call. She stilled and her heart pounded as she stared at it.

  Getting a call on her cell during the workday wasn’t unusual. Dreama often called that line rather than using her business number, as did Maddox’s day care and pediatrician. In fact, there were dozens of people who could be on the other end of that call.

  But somehow, the churning in her gut told her it was Ryder.

  TEN

  Pacing in his office at Novateur, Ryder held the phone to his ear and listened to it ring as Jane’s words repeated over and over in his head.

  “I don’t want him to know you—to trust that you’ll be there for him—only to have you change your mind and leave.”

  The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Jane or Maddox. But the curiosity had him by the heartstrings, playing him like a damn marionette. Did his son look like him? Would Ryder feel an instant fatherly bond?

  The need to meet his son was second only to his need to see Jane again.

  Never once had he considered throwing away bachelorhood and settling down with one woman. Not until Jane. She was under his skin, a constant presence that had followed him around since the night he’d met her. Hell, he’d given up sex because of her.

  That had to mean something.

  Ignoring it would be a big kick to fate’s balls.

  And he didn’t want to piss o
ff fate.

  On the second ring, Ryder sat down at his desk and nabbed a cherry Blow Pop out of the middle drawer. It had been years since he’d quit smoking, but the urge to have something between his lips never went away. If he had his way, he’d be sucking on Jane’s slippery clit or those perfect tits of hers, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  There had to be a way for Ryder to claim his son and keep him safe. Would Maddox be safer having a father there to protect him or would he even need protection if Ryder stayed away from him?

  By the third ring, he expected Jane’s voice mail, so when he heard Jane’s sultry voice saying “hello,” it took him a moment to realize it was actually her and not a recording.

  “Hello?” she said again.

  God, just the sound of her voice made him hot.

  He tugged at the collar of his shirt as he sat back in his chair. “It’s Ryder.”

  After a long pause, she spoke. “Ryder. I didn’t expect to hear from you.”

  “I want to see you,” he said.

  See you. Taste you. Do things to your body you couldn’t imagine in your wickedest fantasies…

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “Just dinner.” He planted his feet on his desk and reclined in his chair. “The two of us sharing a meal in public where we’ll remain fully clothed. I promise.” When she didn’t speak, he added, “We need to talk about where to go from here.”

  “Does that mean you’re willing to acknowledge that Maddox is your son?” she asked, her voice softening.

  He answered the only way he could. “Jane, this isn’t a conversation we should have on the phone.”

  “So is Maddox the only reason you want to see me?”

  A vision of her riding him, all sweaty and disheveled, with her head thrown back in ecstasy had him adjusting himself. “If I’m honest and tell you it’s because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the way your pussy clenched around my cock as you came, would that work for or against me?”

  She blew out an audible breath. “Jesus. I can’t do this right now.”

  “How ’bout we do it at six?” When she didn’t answer, he laughed, realizing she’d misinterpreted his invitation. “Dinner, Jane. Get your head out of the gutter.”

  “I can meet you at Andiamo at seven. I want to run home after work and spend some time with Maddox.”

  “You can bring him,” he found himself offering. “If you want to.”

  She paused. “I think it’s better if we wait until we talk. My roommate will watch him.”

  He was surprised by the disappointment that swept through him.

  “Jane? I’ll see you at seven.” Without giving her a chance to change her mind, he disconnected the call.

  He still didn’t know how they’d work everything out between them, but he did know he wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye to Jane yet or give up the chance to meet his son.

  A chuckle came from his doorway. “You look like the cat who just ate the canary,” Tristan said. “What’s got you grinning so early in the morning?”

  Shit, he’d forgotten Tristan was working at Novateur today. He was in town for the Thanksgiving holiday. Since Tristan had taken the professor job in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, Ryder usually worked alone in the warehouse.

  If Tristan hadn’t been here to point it out, Ryder wouldn’t have known he’d been grinning.

  Finished with his Blow Pop, he tossed the stick into the garbage. “Jane agreed to have dinner with me.”

  As Ryder’s closest friend, Tristan knew all about Ryder’s yearlong search for Jane and the evidence that had implicated her in the theft of Novateur’s designs. Yesterday, Ryder had informed Tristan that he had found Jane and believed she was innocent of the crime, and that she’d had his son.

  Tristan strode into the office, stopping in front of Ryder’s desk. “You’re sure that’s a good idea?”

  Ryder shook his head as Tristan sat in the chair across from him. “Maybe not, but walking away from her is not an option. Since the moment I saw her at the conference, I’ve been hooked. There’s just something about her that calls to me.”

  “I get that. I do. It was the same for me when I met Isabella.” His friend’s brows pinched together. “Don’t take offense. I’m worried that you’re thinking with your dick rather than your head.”

  Hard not to take offense.

  “Why?” Ryder sat forward, bracing his arms on the desk. “Because I’m not capable of having a serious relationship with a woman?”

  “Fuck no,” Tristan said, frowning. “I just meant that I knew when you finally fell, you’d fall hard. And that’s what worries me. You’re not objective when it comes to Jane and as your friend, it’s my job to make sure you’re not making a mistake with her. A few days ago, you thought she was the enemy working for your father. Now you not only believe that she had nothing to do with the theft, based on her word alone, but you’re also accepting her assertion that Maddox is yours.”

  Hands clenched, Ryder shot out of his chair. “Maddox is mine!”

  Tristan was wrong. If anything, Ryder had prematurely judged Jane based on nothing more than his prejudice toward Keane.

  If Tristan was surprised by Ryder’s outburst, he didn’t show it. “How do you know?” he asked calmly.

  That was like asking Ryder how he knew the sky was blue. It just…was. He couldn’t explain it, but he knew in his gut that Jane hadn’t lied to him about Maddox.

  And he didn’t need a damned paternity test to confirm it.

  “Look,” he said, returning to his chair, “I appreciate you looking out for me, I really do, but despite your doubts, I am thinking with my head.”

  “If you say so, then I believe you,” Tristan said, picking up a pen from the desk and flipping it in back and forth in his hand.

  An awkward cough came from outside his office.

  Isaac.

  Like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Ryder flushed with guilt. Had he heard Ryder shouting at Tristan?

  If he had, Isaac made no mention of it as he entered the room and took the chair next to Tristan. “Good to see you both.”

  As the silent partner in Novateur, Isaac stayed out of the day-to-day running of the business. The older man had served as a mentor to both Tristan and Ryder during college and had become a friend to them after they’d graduated. When Novateur had required financial assistance, he’d graciously saved their asses from having to close the business or take a risky loan from the bank.

  “I didn’t know you were coming,” Ryder said.

  Isaac’s gray eyebrows rose. “I wasn’t aware I needed an invitation.”

  “I told him to come,” Tristan said, angling his body so that he could talk to both Ryder and Isaac. “You should know that I got another call from the army. They really want to talk to us about the automatous software we’ve developed.”

  Ever since Novateur had filed its patent application, several branches of militaries, both in the U.S. and abroad, had been bombarding Novateur with calls about purchasing the patent and offering tens of millions of dollars for it.

  And they weren’t alone. Since the software could be used in a variety of ways—anything from self-driven cars to robot soldiers—some of the world’s biggest corporations had also expressed their interest. Arms producer Sinclair Corp had been one of the most insistent of the bunch, but after blowing off one of its employees at the Mackinac conference, Ryder had refused to speak with anyone who represented Sinclair’s interests.

  His code for making technology autonomous was not and would never be for sale.

  Ryder crossed his arms. “I hope you repeated what I’ve told them a dozen times.”

  Tristan gave a curt nod. “I reiterated that we are not interested, but they’re determined.”

  Ryder had been working on the code since high school when his robotics teacher had first discussed the idea of autonomous weaponry. At the time, Ryder and his friends had played arou
nd with the idea of building a “killer robot” that would shoot paint rather than bullets. They’d failed miserably at their attempt, but for some reason, the idea remained Ryder’s own personal challenge.

  And two years ago, he’d conquered it.

  Previously, Novateur had been designing automatic kitchens, which required human input. But an autonomous kitchen wouldn’t require humans at all.

  Grabbing his laptop, Ryder stood. “Come on. I know you’re both eager to see our first autonomous kitchen in action.”

  Tristan and Isaac followed Ryder out of the office and into the warehouse. Novateur currently housed several samples of automatic kitchens for restaurants and bakeries to see in action, each one with different options that ranged in price from a few thousand to hundreds of thousands of dollars.

  Ryder led them to the back corner of the warehouse, his heart racing in anticipation. This was the first time anyone other than him would see his creation.

  From the outside, the kitchen wasn’t any different from the typical kitchen you’d find in any restaurant. The magic was hidden behind the stainless steel.

  Isaac jutted his chin toward a large mixer. “Show me how it works.”

  With Ryder’s press of a single switch on the wall, the entire kitchen went to work. Robotic arms reached from the mixer to the refrigerator and retrieved a carton of eggs. “This particular model is for a bakery. All the software is on my laptop. To make it easy, I’ve limited the bakery’s product to two kinds of cupcakes—vanilla and chocolate—and given the bakery a customer base of one hundred people a day.”

  After cracking the eggs into the mixer, the robotic arm added the sugar and the mixer came to life with a whir. The ovens lit up as they preheated to baking temperature.

  Ryder opened the program on his computer to show his partners and pointed to the columns on the screen. “Right now, the inventory of product is set on zero and based on how I’ve programmed it, the computer will have the kitchen make fifty of each kind. But suppose the bakery only sells ten of vanilla and thirty of chocolate today. Tomorrow, it will automatically adjust the quantity it makes to reflect that. Over time, it will use the historical data to figure out the necessary inventory and bake the exact quantity the store needs, and it will email suppliers to order the ingredients when numbers get low.”