Christmas Baby for the Billionaire

by Donna Alward

  “Let’s have breakfast, then.”

  “Okay. And then I want you to get dressed, because I have something to show you.”

  “You do?”

  “A surprise.”

  “You and your surprises,” she said, making a tsk sound. But as they walked to the kitchen, Christmas was suddenly very merry indeed.

  * * *

  While Tori was having a quick shower and getting dressed, Jeremy grabbed a dish towel and started drying dishes for Shelley.

  “Mrs. Sharpe?”

  She looked up at him, her hands in the dishwater. “You’d better call me Shelley, don’t you think?”

  “Maybe another time. Right now... Well, since Tori’s dad isn’t here, I’m going to ask you.”

  She reached for the dish towel in his hands and dried hers off, then looked up at him. “Ask me what?”

  His stomach quivered. This emotional nakedness was all new to him, and he was terrified he was going to get a lecture once he said what he needed to say. But it was the right thing to do.

  “Ask you for permission to marry your daughter.”

  Her gaze bored into him, and he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. After what had happened, he rather expected he was being measured and coming up short.

  “My girl can make up her own mind.”

  He nodded. “Yes, she can. But your family is different from mine, and your approval means a lot. So I’m asking anyway.”

  Her expression softened. “If Tori says yes, I certainly won’t stand in her way.”

  He sagged with relief. “Okay. Phew. Thanks for not giving me the third degree.”

  She touched his arm. “Look. Clearly I don’t have to worry about her materially, her or the baby. My biggest concern is for her heart. I saw her face when she realized it was you at the door, and I saw yours, too. There’s far more between you than just a baby. So I’ll leave you two to work out whatever future fits.”

  “Even if I take her away?”

  She nodded. “Even then.”

  “Mrs. Sharpe?”

  “Shelley. And yes?”

  “I wish I’d had a mom like you.”

  To his surprise, she handed him back the dish towel and patted his arm. “Well, now you do.”

  She went back to washing dishes as if she hadn’t just turned his world on its end.

  When Tori came back to the kitchen, he and Shelley were talking about Sharpe Christmas traditions. He broke off midsentence when Tori appeared in the doorway. She wore a new outfit of navy leggings and a soft gray sweater that molded to her shape and made her look so beautiful and maternal he thought his heart might burst. “Look at you,” he said, putting down the towel.

  “It’s new. From Mom, for Christmas.” She turned in a circle. “See, Mom? Fits perfectly.”

  “You look lovely.” Shelley let the water out of the sink. “Now go on. Jeremy has a surprise for you. I’ll expect you back for dinner at five.”

  “We’ll be back before then,” Jeremy assured her. “You shouldn’t have to cook a whole Christmas dinner yourself.”

  “Take your time,” she said with a laugh. “The prep’s done. I’m going to put the bird in the oven and have a nap. Maybe read one of the books I got from the girls at work.”

  He held Tori’s coat for her—still the parka that needed replacing—and then took her hand, leading her to his rented car. “Did you stay at the inn?” she asked, waiting as he opened the door for her.

  “No, here in Lunenburg. I didn’t want you to know I was in town yet.”

  “Oh.”

  “Come on. I’ve got something to show you.”

  They drove past Liverpool and toward the Sandpiper, and then past it. He looked over at her face as he turned up the lane leading to the house on the beach, the one they’d looked at after their feed of fish and chips. Her eyes widened.

  “What are we doing here?”

  “You’ll see.”

  The gate was open, and they drove through, up the drive to the house. A huge wreath was on the front door, and just like at her mom’s, a light dusting of snow made everything postcard perfect. He parked and got out of the car, patted his pocket, and went around to open her door. She put her hand in his and got out.

  “Jeremy?”

  “Come on.”

  He led her to the bluff overlooking the private stretch of beach. The wind was brisk off the water, but not bitter. The caps were white and the faint sound of the breakers touched his ears. This had been the right choice. No question.

  “Tori?”

  “Yes?”

  “Remember the night we watched Miracle on 34th Street?”

  She nodded.

  “And there was the scene, at the end of the date, where Bryan proposes and she turns him down?”

  Tori’s eyes widened as she turned away from the ocean and stared up at him. “What?”

  It was now or never. “You said to me, I don’t know why she’s so mean to Bryan. And I said, because she’s scared. Plus they had to work to get to their happy ending.”

  She nodded, just barely, and he reached inside his pocket. “I know you’re scared. I’m scared. But we shouldn’t let that stop us from being happy. Not if we can be scared together. I’m ready to work toward that happy ending if you are.”

  And he held out the red ring box, identical to the one in the movie, and opened it.

  * * *

  Tori stared at the ring. It was possibly the most gorgeous thing she’d ever seen, nestled in velvet, winking in the winter sunlight. “You’re proposing?”

  “I am. I even asked your mom for permission.”

  She choked out a laugh, imagining how that conversation must have gone. “Oh, you didn’t.”

  “I did. Because while my family is a hot mess, yours isn’t. I thought it would mean a lot to you.”

  She sighed. “It does.”

  “Tori?”

  She couldn’t stop staring at the ring. “Hmm?”

  “Will you marry me?”

  She looked up at him, all gray stormy eyes and wild hair and sexy vulnerability. It was hard to believe that a chance affair months earlier had led to this moment, but it had, and he was standing before her, asking her to be his wife.

  And she knew now, without a doubt, that he’d lied to his mom and he’d been honest every step of the way. The proof was in his smiles, in his tender gestures, in the way he made her laugh. In the way they made love. He wasn’t perfect. And neither was she. But he was hers, and she was his, and it was time she had a little faith.

  So she nodded, said yes, and told him to put it on her finger.

  When he slid it over her knuckle, she started to cry. It was beautiful, but what it meant was more so. They’d stopped being afraid and had started facing things together.

  He kissed her softly, his lips cold from the wind. “So that’s not the only surprise,” he said against her mouth.

  “It’s not?”

  “Don’t you wonder why I brought you here?”

  She looked around. The for-sale sign was gone from the yard. There was a wreath on the door. “I don’t know, but don’t you think the owners will wonder why we’re standing out here on their bluff?”

  He reached into his pocket again, and this time he took out a key and placed it in her palm.

  She lifted startled eyes to his.

  “I doubt it, since I’m the new owner.”

  “You... What?”

  He grinned at her now, excitement flashing through his smile. “You love it here. I love it here. I don’t necessarily want to relocate, but can you think of a better summer home? You can be close to your mom whenever you want. We can spend summer days building sandcastles with our kids on the beach. We can put a boat in here and sail down the coast. Have bonfires in the back. Marrying
me shouldn’t have to mean you leave home behind. Not when we can manage to have you here. And if you want to keep up with your innkeeper roots...” He swept his arm to the other side of the property. “The guesthouse is there. You’re right. You could turn it into a vacation rental with no trouble at all. If you want to.”

  She couldn’t believe it. “You bought me...a house? For Christmas?”

  He nodded.

  She started to laugh. And then she laughed more and more until the sound of it echoed through the winter air.

  “What’s so funny?” His brows pulled together.

  “Just that when we were looking at houses, you said this one wasn’t large enough to suit. And now it’s yours.”

  “I said it wasn’t suited for Bran. Me? Well, I realized that it’s not the house but the love inside it that matters.” He spread his arms wide. “I came from a huge mansion with every advantage, but little love. Honey, let me tell you, this house is plenty big enough, as long as you’re inside it.”

  She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight. She wasn’t sure if fate was a thing, or serendipity, or what, but something had brought him here last summer and turned her world upside down. It was wonderful.

  “Let’s go inside,” she suggested.

  “You’ve got the key.”

  She went up the walk and turned the lock easily. Inside smelled like pine cones and cinnamon. There was no furniture, but in the corner of the living room, by the fireplace, was a huge decorated tree.

  “Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he said from behind her.

  She spun in a circle. “It really is. And now is the perfect time to give you your present.”

  She loved the look on his face right now. He’d thought he’d been in charge of all the surprises today, but she had one more.

  “But you didn’t even know you were going to see me.”

  She reached into her handbag and took out the little gift bag she’d hidden in his apartment. The one that had made it through without getting crushed in her luggage, despite being hastily shoved inside without soft packing to keep it safe. And before this Christmas tree was the perfect moment. She handed it to him and smiled. “Merry Christmas, Jeremy.”

  She stood back while he removed the tissue, then reached inside. The little box was the same as her mom’s had been, but what was inside was even more special.

  He opened the lid and took out the ornament she’d bought.

  It was white, too, but in pink glitter it spelled out “Daddy’s Girl” in swooping cursive.

  His gaze shot up to hers. “Daddy’s girl... We’re having a girl?”

  She nodded, tears clogging her throat. The look on his face right now... It was almost the same as when she’d first told him about the baby. Terror and surprise but now with an added ingredient: joy.

  “I found out a bit by accident, just before we left for New York. I was going to tell you the night I’d decorated your apartment, but then we kind of fought and then we made up and it wasn’t the right moment. But now...now it’s right. We’re having a baby girl, and you can hang that ornament on our very first Christmas tree.”

  Instead he came to her and crushed her in a hug. “I am not sure what I ever did to deserve you, but thank you. For rocking my world. For loving me. And for giving me a second chance. I’m not going to let you down, Tori. Or our baby.”

  And when he’d hung the ornament on the tree, they stepped back, held hands and moved into a new future as a family.

  * * *

  If you enjoyed this story, look out for the next book in South Shore Billionaires trilogy

  Coming soon!

  And check out these other great reads from Donna Alward

  Summer Escape with the Tycoon

  Secret Millionaire for the Surrogate

  Best Man for the Wedding Planner

  All available now!

  Excerpt from Falling Again for Her Island Fling by Ellie Darkins.

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  Falling Again for Her Island Fling

  by Ellie Darkins

  CHAPTER ONE

  MEENA LAY ON her back, the sand hot beneath her, the sun reaching her face through the leaves of the coconut trees, and breathed deeply, grateful for the shade even this early in the morning. By lunchtime the heat would be fierce, and she would be forced indoors, so she really should be making the most of her time here on the island of Le Bijou before she had to get back to the St Antoine mainland. But lying on the beach, alone in the sunlight, was still something of a dream. Especially here. Something that she had imagined for so long. Had started to fear would never happen again. It was something she could never take for granted.

  She took another breath, long and slow, relaxing her body from the tips of her fingers down to her toes. It was still a marvel that she could make it follow her commands so easily, after the years that she had spent relearning how to use it. It had taken more strength than she’d known she had to get her body working again after the accident, and still more for her to be able to face the world and reintegrate herself into real life.

  From the outside now one would never guess what had happened to her. Her thick dark hair, worn in its natural curls, did a perfect job of hiding the scars on her head. Her standard-issue Environmental Agency polo shirt or a wetsuit over a one-piece swimsuit took care of the rest.

  But the scars were still there. She could feel them on her scalp and her body. Feel them in her mind, every time that she tried to recall the months before the accident and found them blank. And then there were the looks and the whispers that she knew followed her around the island. She was the girl who had been hit by a car and lost her mind.

  The dappled light grew darker behind her eyelids and she blinked them open, uneasy. She sat up quickly as she realised she was right to be concerned. A man was standing over her, casting a shadow where she had been lying in the sand. With the sun behind him, she couldn’t make out his features, and she scrambled to her feet, heart tripping a little faster, glancing around her to see if there was anyone about who might hear her if she had to call out for help.

  ‘Meena?’ the man asked, sounding as if he was choking on her name.

  ‘Do I know you?’ she replied in English, picking up on his Australian accent even in that one word. Like most residents of St Antoine, an island nation in the Indian Ocean, she was fluent in the French the islanders used every day as well as English, the official language of government business, and of co
urse the colourful creole that the islanders used amongst themselves. But she’d lived in Australia for a year while she’d been at university and the accent never failed to tug at her heart.

  She narrowed her eyes, looking at him closely. Was there something familiar about him? She felt as if his name and the memory of who he was were right on the verge of making it into a functional part of her brain. But her brain didn’t make the leap, so she launched into her well-rehearsed spiel, the words that she’d carefully formulated over the years to smooth this very social awkwardness.

  ‘I’m sorry if we’ve met before,’ she said, scrambling to her feet while she went through the speech. ‘I suffered a head injury and lost some memories.’

  She didn’t even feel embarrassed any more, she realised, about giving her usual excuse when she didn’t recognise someone but got the sense that she probably should. It happened rarely these days. Most of the people whom she’d met and forgotten that summer either knew about her accident already or had just been holidaying on the island and she need never worry about seeing them again. She had spent almost her whole life on St Antoine, the beautiful magnet for tourists and the developers who followed them. But most of the people who stayed here were on once-in-a-lifetime trips and would never know that she had completely forgotten meeting them. It had been a few months, at least, since she had had to make her slightly unorthodox introduction.

  The man held out his hand to shake hers, still watching her with trepidation. Probably worried that she was going to fall into a fit or something, she told herself. She’d waited out the five-year danger period after her accident, desperate to get back to diving, her career and her life on hold until she could get back into the water; wondering every day whether this would be the one when a seizure struck. But it had never happened, and she had got herself recertified to dive and back to her conservation work on the island.

  ‘Guy Williams,’ he introduced himself. ‘I’m—’

  ‘The owner of the development company.’ She’d received an email telling her that she should expect him tomorrow, yet here he was, interrupting her relaxation practice a day early.