by Shayla Black
comforts was knowing I still had the love of them both. I adore Jamie and I’ll always treat him well, but I would never try to replace his biological father. I understand that’s your role.”
I’m happy to hear it. A little grateful, too. But this dude just gave me a big concession. He might not know that I tried to woo his girl a few minutes ago, but seriously. I’m the enemy. Where’s his protective instinct?
“I appreciate that. I came as soon as I found out about Jamie, and I intend to be active in his life.”
“That will be good for the boy. I’ll help you work with Britta on a custody arrangement that’s acceptable to everyone.”
Did he just offer to help me instead of supporting the woman he’s planning to marry? It’s stupid on so many levels… But if he wants to play like we’re both reasonable men and that I don’t want to steal her away, that’s fine. Fighting with this guy outright can only make me look like an asshole.
“That’s great.” I nod. “I appreciate it.”
“Of course.” He hesitates. “I trust you understand it’s definitely over between you and Britta.”
That’s not what her kiss less than five minutes ago told me.
Yeah, she pushed me away…eventually. But I more than felt the spark. She did, too.
“If you’re asking whether I understand she’s engaged to you and that you plan to marry her, I grasp that completely.” It just doesn’t matter.
He gives me a condescending smile. “Good. I’ve done everything I can to make her happy. I treat her well, I adore her son, and I put a ring on her finger. I’m not sure what your feelings toward her are—if you even have any—but ultimately Britta is a reasonable woman who knows I’ll give her an optimal future.”
I do my best to listen with a straight face, but it’s tough.
So let me get this right… This guy thinks that because he ticked all the boxes off on some mental checklist of what makes a happy wife and that because she’s “reasonable,” they’ll soon be skipping hand in hand down some logical, yellow-brick road to everlasting love?
Is he for real? Would it interest you to know that I just had my fingers in your fiancée’s pussy?
Usually, I prefer to come at a foe head on. I’d rather fight the rough fight than the underhanded one. But Makaio could be a huge advocate in helping me gain rights to Jamie. I can’t afford to turn that down. I feel bad that I’m going to make the asshole choice to take this sap’s help while I try to steal his woman. But a little remorse isn’t stopping me.
Yeah, I know. You’re judging me. Hey, I’m judging myself, too. But I don’t see another way to meld the people I love into a real family with me. Jamie deserves his mother and father together. Britta doesn’t need a man who expects her to love him because he treats her well and it seems logical; she is entitled to a man who will be passionate about her every moment of every day and always put her first, no matter what.
That will never be Makaio.
“I see your point,” I finally say. “You’ve done everything right.”
I just don’t think that’s going to work for you, pal.
Britta’s banker nods stiffly at me. “Good to hear. I’ll talk to her about devising a custody arrangement. My father is a retired attorney, and I know they’ve already been discussing the situation. Of course, Britta wanted to understand her options.”
“Of course,” I manage to say without sounding cynical at all.
Well, now I know why she went to see the asswipe’s dad the other morning. Damn it.
“I’ll urge her to think about what’s truly best for the boy,” Makaio assures me. “Not what serves her bitterness.”
Wow, what a dipshit.
I keep my thoughts to myself and I give him a vague nod of thanks.
I need a new plan. I’ll bet that, now that Britta knows I can get to her, she’s mentally digging a moat and building more protective fences around her heart. I have to find a way back in pronto—and persuade her to share Jamie with me. But given the passion still sweltering between us, I don’t think she’ll be able to resist me for long.
I leave with a smile.
CHAPTER SIX
After moving my own desk into my former office late Saturday afternoon, I arrive early Monday morning, ready to go. I throw myself in my chair, looking out the window with a view of the parking lot. And I wait. Undoubtedly, Britta did a lot of thinking over the weekend. The reception I get from her today is going to tell me a lot.
But I have to admit…stupid or not, I have more hope today than I did last Friday.
While drinking Saturday night with Maxon—we both turned down flirty girls at a bar—and while pushing my body to the limit with an eight-mile run on Sunday, I got some clarity about our situation. I could have handled it better. Merely saying I’m sorry for all I did to her wasn’t enough. Kissing her, even if she reciprocated, didn’t repair the damage I inflicted on us. Telling her I love her was too little, too late. But my heart is in the right place. Some combination of all that—something gentler and less rushed—should bring us closer together.
It goes against my grain to downshift. For Britta, I have to try.
My brother pops his head in with coffee. “You prepared for World War III? You know, just in case.”
I’m hoping she’s looked at everything I’ve done these past few days and realizes I’m both serious and committed. But if it’s going to take more time and more potentially heated conversation for her to believe me… “I’m prepared.”
“You’re crazy. You know that, right? I knew that for sure on Saturday when you kissed her…and whatever else you did—”
“I never said I touched her.”
Maxon scoffs. “I’ve got ears. Whatever was happening in that bedroom was getting raunchy. And when I heard a zipper go down, I had to get out of earshot. Nothing I want to hear less than my brother and the woman I think of as a sister doing the nasty.”
“Well, since we have a child together, we obviously have in the past,” I point out.
And the fact that I didn’t see him all weekend is sitting sour in my gut. How am I supposed to start being a father to the little guy if I’m never with him?
“There’s a difference between laying eyes on my nephew and hearing his parents’ slobbers of passion.”
“No one slobbered,” I assure my annoying-ass brother with a pointed glare.
As he laughs, Britta swings her sedan into the lot and parks.
“Speak of the angel…” I drawl.
Maxon looks out the window. “If there are battles, you know the drill. Keep them out of the office.”
“I got it. I got it. Go.”
As she emerges from her vehicle, she’s wearing a black skirt edged in a lacy hem and a gray blouse with puffed sleeves so sheer I can discern the shape of her arms. The rest of her body is frustratingly obscured but so elegant. Sparkling silver shoes complete the cool, sophisticated look.
Fuck, she knows what a turn-on it is for me when she’s dressed like a lady…and she lets me undress her like a woman.
Today, Britta is wearing her hair in gentle waves halfway down her back. The breeze tugs at the strands as she slams her car door with a determined swagger. Then she strides to the office’s main door, clutching a folder in hand and looking ready to conquer the world.
From her attitude, I’m guessing she’s raised her defenses and girded her loins.
That’s not good.
“Good luck with that,” Maxon tosses my way as he watches her, backing out of my office.
“Thanks,” I shoot back sarcastically.
“By the way, George Stowe left me a voice mail late last night. The listing is ours.” He grins.
I relish that piece of good news for a few seconds. This is cause for celebration. We can do great things together.
But I’m distracted by Britta. She looks beyond pissed as she barrels across the office. She doesn’t even stop at her desk, merely continues her stomp into my office
and shuts the door, clutching the folder to her breast like a shield. That fucking engagement ring is winking at me in mockery.
“What happened on Saturday will never happen again,” she says through clenched teeth.
Yes, it will. Only next time, she’ll be less angry with me. We’ll have worked things out. Then I’ll get her naked, pump deep inside her until her nails are in my back and she’s crying out my name. I’ll rinse and repeat a few times, put a smile on her face…then we’ll see how she feels.
“Hmm.” I’m noncommittal because I refuse to add fuel to her fire. But I won’t lie to her face and agree, either.
She narrows her eyes at me. “Griffin James Reed, don’t you dare act as if you didn’t step way over the line with me.”
“I did.”
My admission seems to startle her, then she narrows her eyes at me. “But you’re not sorry.”
“If I upset you, yes. That I got to touch you again and remind you of what’s between us, no.” When she stiffens and opens her mouth, likely with a comeback, I hold up a finger. “But I promised Maxon I wouldn’t drag our personal shit into the office.” I glance at the folder in her hands. “So, did you have something else to discuss?”
“That’s a convenient excuse. I’m engaged, and you grabbed me and kissed me. You put your hands on me—”
“My mouth, too. Don’t forget that. In fact, after I left your house and got alone in my own car, I could still smell your pussy on my fingers. It was driving me crazy. I had to lick them. Savor them.” God, she tastes exactly as I recall.
Her eyes bulge, and she turns a hundred shades of red, then whips her stare out the interior window to see if Maxon or Rob could possibly have overheard us. “Don’t say things like that!”
“I should lie?” I lean back in my chair.
“You’re twisting my words. Don’t say sexual things to me.”
I shake my head. “I’m not going to candy-coat how much I want you, angel. Or how much I love you.”
She rears back as if I’ve slapped her. “Don’t say that, either. You’re only claiming you have feelings for me now because you want parental rights to Jamie. I won’t let you sweet-talk me into—”
“Let’s get one thing straight.” I stand and round the desk, approaching her on slow steps. “I still loved you even before I knew about Jamie.”
Britta pauses as if absorbing my words. “Funny how you never took the time to say that until you found out about your son. My reply is still the same.”
Fuck off.
“Too bad. I won’t walk away from Jamie,” I promise. “Or from you.”
“Why do you always expect that everyone will bend to please you? I’ve moved on. I don’t need you.” She clenches her fists with a grunt. “I never lose my damn temper unless you’re involved.”
“Because I matter to you, just like you matter to me.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “No. It’s because you infuriate me. You can tell me you ‘love’ me all you want. I don’t believe you. I never will. Ugh, you make me hate you.”
Not true. I get under her skin. “That didn’t feel like hate on your guest-room bed less than forty-eight hours ago.”
She blinks, looking as if she’s fighting furious tears. “You’re throwing my momentary lapse in my face?”
I refrain from pointing out that her “momentary lapse” was closer to five minutes.
“Stop it, Griff. I’m not a naive little virgin anymore. I’m done letting you manipulate me.” She slaps the folder down on my desk. “This is the solution to our problem. Read these papers and sign them, damn it. If you ever really cared about me and what I want, you’ll do this.”
I stare at the spilling paperwork like it’s a snake. I round the desk and flip the folder open. The header at the top of the stapled document on legal paper reads VOLUNTARY RELINQUISHMENT OF PARENTAL RIGHTS.
Holy. Fuck.
More words swim before my eyes. GRIFFIN JAMES REED DOES HEREBY IN WRITING EXPRESSLY CONSENT AND AGREE TO THE TERMINATION OF HIS PARENTAL RIGHTS CONCERNING JAMES TUCKER STONE. CONSENT IS PERMANENT AND CANNOT BE REVOKED…
I stop reading. I stop breathing. I probably shouldn’t be surprised that she’s fighting back…but I didn’t see this coming. The gnawing in my stomach is definitely panic. I try to keep myself under control as I close the flap of the folder, covering the document. “No.”
Tears well in her eyes, and I see she’s trying to will them away.
I soften my refusal by pointing out one detail. “I’m not his father legally, so I have no rights to relinquish. This document is unnecessary.”
“Damn it, Griff.” She sniffles. “Do the right thing by me for once and sign it so there’s no question in the future.”
Her insistence hurts. But seeing her so upset is killing me, too. She clearly feels backed into a corner, and this legal maneuver is tearing her apart. It must be. If Britta flat-out hated me, she would be coldly silent. But she isn’t the sort of woman to share her vulnerable side easily. So all her upset tells me is that she truly doesn’t want to cut me out of Jamie’s life.
It tells me she’s far more terrified to trust me than I thought.
The other thing this morning says is that Makaio has absolutely no control or sway over Britta. That’s great news for me. Sure, he might have lied to my face about his thoughts and intentions, but I doubt it. He’s a truth-justice-and-American-way sort of guy. He would view something important, like Jamie’s custody arrangement, as too vital to play games with.
Well, I’m not playing games, which he’ll figure out…eventually. Britta isn’t messing around, either. She’s simply trying not to think with her heart.
I need to show her that she can believe in me, that I’ll be here for her. I can’t do that if I’m unable to spend time with her and our son. So I’ll fix that problem—fast.
But I will never, ever sign this document, no matter how much she pleads.
“I’m trying, angel. I’m simply not convinced that me bowing out of Jamie’s life forever is best for any of us.”
Through the interior window, I see Maxon glaring my way. Not in the office. Right.
“You’re just going to confuse him. The schlepping him back and forth between your place and mine… He’s too young to understand. He doesn’t take that well to strangers or new surroundings. You don’t know the first thing about kids. Please. It would be better if you let us go.”
A tear finally escapes and rolls down her cheek. With a valiant sniff, she tries to call it back, but it’s too late. Instead, she wipes it away and blinks stoically, determined to press on no matter how much this is killing her. I’d be happy to kiss her tears away, but I’d rather not be kicked in the balls—by her or my brother.
Of course, I could argue with Britta. I’ve got a hundred comebacks whizzing through my head. He’s a smart boy. We’ll help him figure out any new arrangement. I’ll do everything possible to make him comfortable, and I’ll ask your advice so the transition is the best it can be. What I don’t know about kids, I’ll be more than happy to learn… I could go on. All that does is prolong the argument. We’ll never get to the heart of the issue that way.
Clearly, she’s torn. Her head is telling her one thing. Her heart is saying something else entirely. I’m going out on a limb—not really—and guessing that after I abandoned her, she mentally combed through every moment of every day we spent together and tried to figure out where it went wrong and how she could have been so mistaken about our commitment, etc. When she didn’t find anything she could definitely point to as the moment, she resolved never to let her guard down with a man, especially me, again.
Yeah, I’ve got to fix a lot of shit.
“Why do you think this arrangement would be better?” I ask.