The Rival's Heir

by Joss Wood

  Unlike Huntley and his ex, she wanted a child.

  Didn’t she?

  The two Europeans exchanged a long look as if they were silently arguing about who was going to do the honors of changing the little girl. They both looked horrified.

  “I need to get going,” Darby said.

  A charming smile crossed the lawyer’s face. “The nanny we hired to look after Jacquetta since we left Italy has been dismissed. Could you change her since neither of us knows how?”

  “What makes you think I do?” Darby asked.

  Mr. Slick just shrugged, and Darby knew she was being played. It had been years since she’d changed a diaper, but she’d looked after babies as a teenager. She was sure it was like riding a bike; one didn’t just forget. And God, if she left little Jacquetta—goodness, what a mouthful—in their hands, the kid would be more miserable than she was now. It was one diaper, Darby could deal.

  Darby held out her hand for the bag draped over the lady’s shoulder. Darby would change Jacquetta—Jac—make up a bottle for the little girl and send them on their way. There was no doubt she’d remember this encounter for the rest of her life: hot guy, cute kid, drama...

  “There’s a baby room just around the corner.” Darby jerked her head at the woman. “You’re coming with me.”

  “Perché?”

  Why? Jeez, these people were seriously whacked. “Because you don’t just hand over a baby to a stranger, that’s why.”

  Mr. Slick smiled at her. “The corridor ends just beyond the restroom so there is nowhere to take little Jacquetta. If you wanted to steal her, you’d have to pass by us. And we’ll be here waiting.”

  Darby frowned, unease crawling across her skin.

  “Besides, this is one of the best hotels in Boston, there are cameras everywhere.” Mr. Slick winced as Jacquetta’s cries escalated in volume.

  Dammit. She was going to do this.

  Darby started to walk down the hallway. Feeling eyes on her, she looked back. Her gut was screaming at her that their expressions were too bland, that she was being played. How the hell had she ended up in this situation?

  Then Jac released a high-pitched scream and Darby looked down, her heart hurting over the little girl’s distress. The baby, defenseless and innocent, had to come first. Darby would change her and make up a bottle, maybe give her a little cuddle and then Darby would hand her back.

  Her life would go back to normal in ten minutes.

  Darby walked down the corridor, her hand tapping Jac’s little bottom, unable to resist dropping a kiss on the baby’s curly head. In the baby changing room, Darby laid Jac on the soft changing table and looked down into the little girl’s exquisite face.

  “Should I have one just like you?”

  Jac, being no more than nine months old, didn’t have a clue.

  * * *

  Little Jac sucked her bottle as Darby walked back down the hallway, her shoulders aching from the unaccustomed weight of holding a baby and a seriously heavy baby bag. The baby was clean and happy, and Darby could hand her over and go back to her life.

  Except that, when she turned the corner, there was nobody to hand the baby back to.

  Hearing noise from the elevator, Darby spun around and saw the two lawyers standing in the elevator.

  “Give the baby to Judah Huntley,” Mr. Slick told her, his words sliding between the closing doors.

  Darby couldn’t believe what they’d done. They’d left Jac with a stranger! How did they know she wasn’t a psycho, that she wouldn’t just walk off with the baby?

  Dumping the heavy bag into the stroller and leaving it in the hallway, Darby pushed open the door to the ballroom with her hip and scanned the audience. It wasn’t difficult to find Huntley since he was taller than pretty much everyone. His dark head was bent to better hear the words of an olive-skinned brunette wearing a low top. Her expression brazenly suggested that she wouldn’t say no if Huntley invited her to take a tour of his guest suite, or the nearest closet.

  Irrationally annoyed, Darby focused on the photographs flashing onto the presentation screen on the far side of the room, each image stealing her breath. The first photo was of Huntley’s proposed design for the Grantham-Ford museum and it was fantastic. The building looked curvy and feminine, sultry and almost, dare she say it, sexy. It was stunning and, dammit, so much better than her own design. The man deserved to win the commission. As images of his previous designs rolled across the wall, she stood there, blown away yet again by his talent.

  Darby pulled her gaze away from the images and looked back to the creator of those magnificent buildings, surprised to find his eyes on her. God, he was a good-looking man. An intriguing combination of sexy and smart, tough and taciturn.

  She jerked her head to summon him over and studied him as he made his way toward her, graceful despite his height and large frame.

  Stepping back into the hall, Darby glanced down at the sleeping bundle in her arms, smiling at the very feminine version of that masculine man heading her way. She’d hand Jac over to her him and remind herself that this beautiful child was not her problem. She had her own baby issues to figure out.

  As Judah reached the door, the chairman of the board, so in love with his own voice, tapped his glass with a spoon and the room fell quiet.

  Puffed up with self-importance, he spoke into the microphone. “Given this foundation’s commitment to supporting Bostonian talent, I understand that some of our local professionals might be upset that the design has been awarded to a New York–based architect, but the winning design was simply outstanding. That said, it is my great pleasure to announce that Huntley and Associates is looking for a local architect to work with Judah Huntley on the art museum project.”

  The room erupted into clapping and cheers, and Darby looked at Judah, her eyebrows raised.

  Judah shrugged before murmuring, “He’s making it sound like more than it is. My new hire will be little more than a glorified intern, the liaison between the foundation and myself.”

  Darby felt the sharp nip of annoyance. “She or he won’t get to work on the construction documentation?”

  “I have a team back in New York for that. They are a well-oiled machine.”

  So the position was not something she was interested in. She was an architect, not an intern. “Do you intend to pay this person or are they expected to work for the honor of being able to put your name as a reference on their resume?”

  He didn’t react to her snippiness. “They’ll be paid.”

  “How much?” Darby demanded. She wasn’t interested in working as an intern but she was curious what world-renowned architects paid.

  Judah named a figure and Darby’s mouth fell open. That much? Seriously? Well, wow. At that rate, her interest rose. Pity he was a baby-rejecting jerk or she’d put her name in the hat.

  Jac hiccuped in her sleep and Judah’s eyes shifted to the living doll in Darby’s arms. She looked into his face for any hint of acceptance or compassion and felt disappointed when she found none. She didn’t like him, but she reluctantly conceded that his hard and brooding expression was as sexy as his debonair and urbane facade. The many faces of Judah Huntley, Darby mused.

  This man, who is uninterested in his own child, is the opposite of what you are looking for in a man.

  “Why do you still have the child?”

  Darby narrowed her eyes at his clipped tone. “I have her because I changed her diaper for your friends. They said they’d be waiting for me in the hallway, but they left before I could hand her back.”

  Judah glared at her and in the dim light, she saw concern jump into his eyes. “What?”

  He was a smart guy, why was this difficult to understand? “Do try to keep up, Huntley. I changed her diaper, made up some formula and when I got back, the two Italians were in the elevator. I thought about chasing
them down, then figured the easier option was to hand Jac over to you.”

  “Jack? Her name is Jack?”

  Darby heard the weird note in his voice and wondered why the name rocked his boat. “They called her Jacquetta but that’s too much of a mouthful, so I shortened it to Jac,” Darby replied. “Here you go.”

  Darby tried to hand Judah the child, but he stepped back, looking horrified.

  Oh, no! She’d already done more than enough. “This is a child, Huntley! Your child, apparently. You don’t just get to throw your hands up in the air and step back. She’s a baby, not a package you can refuse.”

  Judah rubbed the back of his neck. “Damned Carla. What the hell is she playing at?”

  “So, I take it Jac is a bit of a surprise? That you didn’t know about her?”

  “Of course I didn’t know about her! She’s not—” Judah snapped his mouth shut and gripped the bridge of his nose in frustration.

  That he’d been about to say that the baby wasn’t his was easy to work out. But Darby wasn’t that much of an idiot. Judah might not want Jac to be his, but the little girl was a carbon copy of him, down to her nose and stubborn chin.

  Judah glanced down at Jac and lifted his big shoulders. “I can’t take her.”

  Oh, God, she was so done with this. Darby lifted her free hand, gripped Judah’s lapel and stood up on her toes, annoyed to realize that she still needed more height to look him in the eye. “Listen to me, you spoiled, inconsiderate ass! This baby was brought to you by those useless fools and if I track them down, I will carve them up for leaving her with a stranger and then disappearing. I could’ve been a baby trafficker, a nut case, a psycho!”

  Amusement jumped into Judah’s eyes. “Are you?”

  God, when he half smiled, that dimple deepened and her stomach quivered. It was like he just dialed his sexy factor up to lethal and—

  Why was she thinking about that? She was supposed to be tearing him a new one! Sexy or not, he was going to get a very big piece of her mind. “You’re an idiot if you can’t see how much Jac looks like you! And even though I am the only one who seems to give a damn about this child, she is not my responsibility.”

  “You agreed to change her, you let them go. You could’ve handed her back.”

  Could he really be that unfeeling, that cold? This man who created art in buildings with such verve, such emotion in every line. How could he be so devoid of warmth?

  “You heartless bastard! Do you know how lucky you are to have a child? Do you know how many people would love to be you?” Darby winced when her voice rose. Then she decided that she didn’t care. Somebody needed to stand up for Jac, to put her first, and it seemed Darby had been nominated. “She’s the innocent party and if you can’t see that, then you are a complete and utter waste of space.”

  Darby knew she was panting, knew she was on the edge of tears and knew she had to leave before she lost it. She also had to leave before she walked away with the baby nobody but her seemed to want.

  Pulling Judah’s arm from his side, she bundled Jac into his embrace, making sure he had a firm grip before letting the little girl go. Refusing to look at him, Darby dropped a quick kiss on Jac’s smooth forehead.

  Darby smacked Jac’s empty bottle into Judah’s other hand and sent him a hard, tight smile. “My friend DJ says that having kids should be heavily regulated and subject to licensing. I’ve never agreed more with that statement than right now.” She stared up into his beautiful face, confusion replacing anger. “I don’t understand how someone so talented, who can put so much emotion into a building, can be so hard. And so cold.”

  Judah dipped his head so she could feel his breath on her ear, so she inhaled his unique scent of lemons and detergent and something earthy and sexy that made her want to bury her face in his neck and breathe him in. For a moment—a small infinitesimal moment—she imagined that she and Judah were a couple, that he was standing guard over his family, but the words that left his mouth shattered that image.

  “This baby isn’t mine.”

  Of course he’d say that.

  “No, you just don’t want her to be yours,” Darby muttered. “She should be good for about another half hour or so. After that, I hope she gives you hell. Bye now.”

  Judah’s eyes hit hers and Darby felt their punch. All that gorgeous blue, that face and that body, wasted on a self-absorbed cretin.

  Good luck, Jacquetta, you’re going to need it, honey.

  Three

  Way to make friends and influence people. Judah watched the Duchess step toward the elevator, cursing when the doors closed on a froth of fabric. She was gone, and he should be glad.

  Should being the operative word.

  She’d just reamed him but instead of getting pissed he’d just been turned on... But, in his defense, she was smokin’.

  She was also gone.

  Judah shook his head. Well, that was that. Looking down at the little girl he held, he watched as her eyes fluttered closed and her mouth softened. She did look like him, Judah admitted. Then again, he and Jake both took after their dad and no one ever suspected that they were half siblings and not full blood brothers.

  Judah thought he’d been the only casualty of Jake and Carla’s illicit weekend spent together in his apartment but no, they always went a step further than necessary. Why light a Roman candle when you could detonate a bomb?

  Judah felt the back of his throat burn. A year and a half had passed; how could the double betrayal still hurt so damn much? He ran his knuckle over Jac’s flower-soft cheek. His pain, the fiery anger, he realized, wasn’t only for him but also for Jacquetta. This little human, this doll-faced child, deserved better than two dysfunctional cretins as parents.

  Judah used his free hand to pull his phone from the inside pocket of his jacket and scroll through his contact list. He hadn’t dialed this number in so long, he hoped it was still operational.

  The phone buzzed, beeped and started to ring.

  Keep your cool, keep your cool...

  “Judah, baby.”

  Her growly, sexy voice raised nothing more than red-hot anger. “What the hell, Carla? A baby? Are you insane?”

  “I know it’s a bit of a surprise, but I need you to take her for a while so I can finish this project.”

  “Let me think about that...” Judah replied, trying his utmost to keep his voice low. “No. A thousand times no! This isn’t happening.”

  “It is.” Carla’s voice turned hard. “Either you or your brother have to take her until I decide I want her back.”

  “Then call Jake, for God’s sake! He’s her father, not me! And don’t you think one of you should’ve let me know I have a niece?”

  “You made it very clear to both of us that you’d washed your hands of us.”

  “You talk as if I didn’t find you naked in my bed, in a position I still can’t get out of my head. Then you spilled the ugly details of our breakup to distract the press from finding out you were cheating on me with my much younger brother while I dealt with the mess Jake created.”

  Why had he even mentioned the past? Carla didn’t care then, and she didn’t care now.

  “Call Rossi back or get Jake to come get his daughter,” he said. “She. Is. Not. My. Problem.”

  “Do you think it would be wise of me to leave Jac with Jake? He’s an addict with a felony record, thanks to you. He’s not daddy material.”

  “Carla, you can’t just dump a baby on me like she’s a UPS parcel!” Okay, he’d borrowed that from the Duchess, but it applied. God, what had he seen in Carla? Oh, yeah, the sex had been phenomenal but like Turkish delight, she was best taken in small doses. “Come and get her, Carla.”

  “No,” Carla replied. “I need some time. Just hear me out, please?”

  He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, but his silence gave
her room to speak.

  “I have a new job, Bertolli is composing an opera and I am the lead character.”

  “Yeah, I heard. You are being cast against type.”

  “You are not the first to notice that. There have been a lot of insinuations already, about my past, you, my relationship with Bertolli.”

  “Which is?”

  Carla didn’t answer, which meant there was a very good chance she was sleeping with Bertolli. She was playing with fire. If word got out that she was sleeping with one of Italy’s most conservative, outwardly faithful men, the country’s favorite composer—a national treasure!—she would be labeled a sinful temptress and the press would eat her alive.

  Judah walked to the end of the hallway and placed his hand on the floor-to-ceiling window. He looked down at the bustling streets of downtown Boston below, resting his forehead on the cool glass.

  “There was a story recently, suggesting you are not her father. I cannot take the chance of the world finding out that Jake is Jacquetta’s father and not you. It was enough of a scandal that I had a baby out of wedlock but if they find out about my liaison with Jake—”

  “Affair.”

  “If they find out about Jake, that he is your brother and a heroin addict, that I had his baby not yours, the story will be on the front page of every tabloid from here to China. It will be a scandal and my contract with the new production says I have to remain scandal-free.”

  His heart bled. None of this had anything to do with him. Jake and Carla had had sex in Judah’s bed and now they had to deal with the consequences of their actions. He was in no way responsible for them or the fruit of their loins.

  Judah glanced down at the little girl and ignored the tiny lump in his throat.

  She could’ve been his...

  No, he didn’t want kids; he never had. He remembered having to change Jake’s diapers, night after night rocking him to sleep because their parents were out on the town or simply out of town. For six years, he’d been Jake’s primary caregiver, the adult in the house. He’d bought Jake clothes, made him meals, packed his school lunches. As a twelve-year-old child himself, Judah had stepped up to the plate and taken on responsibility for another human being—because his father and stepmother were useless—and Judah had promised himself that he would never again put himself in that position.