The Illegitimate Billionaire (Whiskey Bay Brides Book 4; Billionaire & Babies)

by Barbara Dunlop

  He took their plates to the stove and placed an impressively shaped car pancake on each of them.

  “Where did you learn to do that?” Callie asked.

  “My mom was creative.”

  “I can see that.” She spread some butter on Ethan’s pancake and added a drizzle of syrup.

  “Any requests?” Deacon asked her.

  She didn’t understand the question.

  “What shape do you want your pancake?”

  She smiled as she cut Ethan’s car into careful squares. “Round is fine for me.”

  “I’m going to need more information,” Deacon said.

  “You need me to explain round?”

  “Do you want an orange, a beach ball, the moon? You’re going to have to be specific.”

  “Get the moon, Mommy. Get the moon,” James called.

  She couldn’t help laughing. “I’ll take the moon.”

  “One moon, coming up.”

  “What are you having?” she asked, moving to stand beside him at the stove.

  “I’m going with a base drum.”

  “You must be hungry.”

  “I am.” He paused. “I worked up an appetite last night.”

  Her cheeks grew warm. “Yeah.” She didn’t know what else to say.

  “Don’t tell me you’re feeling shy.”

  “A little,” she admitted. She’d never had breakfast with a lover before. She had to wonder if children were often part of the equation.

  “You should feel great. I feel great.” Deacon put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re amazing.”

  “You’re pretty amazing yourself.”

  She could see him smile out of the corner of her eye.

  “Any chance you can take the day off?” he asked.

  She hesitated. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hop immediately back into bed. Well, part of her did. But part of her wanted to take a breath.

  Deacon must have guessed the direction of her thoughts, because he nudged her playfully with his hip. “I thought we could take the boys to the beach.”

  “Oh, uh, let me check with Hannah.”

  “I didn’t mean that.” His tone was teasing.

  “I know.”

  “Don’t get me wrong. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. But that wasn’t where I was going.”

  Her self-consciousness rose again. Then she told herself to quit being foolish. She wasn’t some blushing teenager.

  “Juice, Mommy, juice,” Ethan called from the table, his little heels banging against the chair legs.

  She stretched up to whisper in Deacon’s ear. “I would too.”

  Then she sashayed across the room to pour the orange juice.

  Deacon was right behind her with the pancakes.

  He set them down and pulled out her chair. Then he leaned in behind her as she sat. “Teasing me?”

  She gave him an unrepentant grin. “Just being honest.”

  His blue eyes twinkled in response.

  “Anybody want to go to the beach today?” she asked the boys. She was confident Hannah wouldn’t mind holding down the fort at the bakery.

  “Beach,” Ethan shouted.

  “Can we build a sand castle?” James asked.

  “We sure can,” she said, cutting into her pancake.

  “Castle,” Ethan sang out.

  “He doesn’t seem as noisy when you’re outside,” Callie told Deacon.

  “I don’t mind. I get it. I was a boy once myself.”

  She took a bite of her pancake. It was delicious. “Secret recipe?”

  “It’s all yours if you want it.”

  “I do.”

  “Mommy, can I take my orange wagon?” James asked.

  “I don’t think the wheels will roll on the beach.”

  “They might.”

  “They might get stuck in the sand.”

  “Why do you want your wagon?” Deacon asked.

  “It’s big. It’ll fit a whole mountain of sand.” James made an expansive gesture with both hands.

  “Watch your fork, honey.” Callie could live without syrup drops flying through the kitchen.

  “Do you have buckets?” Deacon asked James. “Your mom’s right. The wagon wheels will probably get stuck. But I’m pretty strong, I can carry big buckets.”

  “Can we take the bubble tub?” James asked, his eyes wide with excitement.

  “The bubble tub?” Deacon asked.

  “It’s a laundry tub. We play bubbles in it in the backyard.”

  Deacon lifted his brow to her in a question.

  “I have to warn you, it’s pretty big,” she said on a laugh. She didn’t imagine the beach would do it any harm.

  “Done,” Deacon said. “Let’s see how much I can lift.”

  Six

  Callie’s sons were slightly sun-kissed, thoroughly exhausted and now sound asleep. Deacon gave one last look at Ethan in his crib and James in a sports car bed, still marveling at how much they looked like their uncles, Aaron and Beau. Then he followed Callie out of their bedroom.

  “You wore them into the ground,” she whispered to Deacon.

  “They were the ones who did that to me.” He’d been impressed at their energy levels all day long.

  They’d slowed down around one o’clock, but half an hour of shade, a couple of hotdogs and some hydration, and they were ready to go all over again. They’d built a sandcastle, rented bikes, tossed a beach ball around and played endlessly in the waves, finding tiny shells and sea creatures.

  “Should we eat something?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. Are we hungry?” He smoothed back her hair and kissed her neck, like he’d been dying to do for hours.

  Her creamy, copper limbs and bare midriff had been teasing him all day long.

  “You want to stay?” she asked, stopping at the top of the stairs and turning to face him.

  “Do you mean overnight?” He didn’t want to misunderstand.

  “Yes, I mean overnight.”

  “Absolutely.” He couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do.

  “Then, we can probably take time out to eat.”

  “I suppose I can wait.”

  “Yes, you can wait.” Her tone was mock-stern. “It’s barely eight o’clock.”

  “I can wait.” In fact, he wanted to wait. He wanted to hang out with her in this big, comfy house, enjoy her company, have a little dinner, all the while anticipating that he would be holding her in his arms, making love with her, sleeping curled around her lithe body.

  “I can order something in,” he offered as they started down the stairs.

  “There are leftover pancakes.”

  “You’ve been living in mom-world way too long.”

  She grinned over her shoulder.

  “I was thinking of braised duckling and wild mushrooms,” he said.

  “You can get that delivered?”

  “You can get anything delivered. They’ll throw in salad, wine and dessert.”

  “I leave it in your capable hands.”

  He gave her a mock salute. “On it, ma’am.”

  “I’ll pick up the toys.”

  He gazed around the jumble of the living room. He didn’t mind the lived-in look, but he knew Callie was more comfortable when things were tidy.

  “I’ll help in a minute,” he told her, borrowing her tablet and bringing up a food delivery app.

  It was quick and painless to place the order. And then, though he preferred to stay with her in the fantasy and forget about the outside world, he did his duty and set the tablet to a Virginia political news page.

  “We’ve got thirty minutes,” he told her, placing the tablet on the coffee table.

  “No,” she said, seeming to rand
omly throw the word into the conversation, as she finished lining up stuffed bears across an armchair.

  “No what?”

  “No, we’re not tearing our clothes off for thirty minutes, while we wait for dinner.”

  “Did I say that?” Not that he’d turn her down. He definitely wouldn’t turn her down.

  “It’s in your eyes.”

  He moved toward her. “You haven’t even looked in my eyes.”

  “Then it’s in your tone.”

  He looped an arm around her waist. “The only thing in my tone is a desire to get you to sit down and stop working. You have to be just as tired as I am.”

  She let herself be led to the sofa. “I didn’t carry anywhere near as much sand. And you had Ethan on your bike.”

  “He’s not heavy.” Truth was Deacon had been entertained by the little guy’s chatter throughout the ride.

  She sat at one end of the sofa, while he moved to the other to keep himself away from temptation. Because, despite his protests, he was having a very hard time keeping his hands off her. And it was time for him to focus on impressing her.

  He pretended to bump the tablet as he sat down, lighting the page he’d queued up. He’d enlarged his name in the title of the article, hoping she’d notice.

  She didn’t, and the page soon went dark.

  “Are you thirsty?” he asked, looking for another excuse to touch the tablet. “I ordered wine, but I can get you something while we wait.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Well, I’d like some water.” He rose, touched the tablet screen again, surreptitiously turning it her way. Then he headed into the kitchen.

  “You sure I can’t grab you one?” he called back.

  “No, that’s...okay, maybe, sure. Bring me one.”

  He took two bottles of water from the fridge door, breaking their seals as he returned.

  Bingo. She was reading the article.

  She looked up. “What’s this?”

  “Hmm?” He set a water bottle down close to her and took a drink from his own.

  “It’s about you.”

  “Me? Really?” He feigned surprise. “I must have typed my name in the wrong box. Is it the Mobi Transportation family picnic? I killed in the ring toss.”

  “No. It’s Senator Cathers. He was talking about you.”

  Still pretending to be confused, Deacon reached for the tablet. “When?”

  “At some event last week.”

  He scanned the article. “Oh, man. This is embarrassing. I told him not to do that.”

  “Is it true? Are you going into politics?” She didn’t look particularly happy at the prospect.

  “No. Well, maybe someday. There are a few people out there who think it’s a good idea.”

  “For the power and influence?” she asked.

  “To help my fellow Virginians.” It was such a pat answer, it was almost laughable. But it was still the best answer. “There’s a lot of work to be done in streamlining regulations, cutting red tape and creating jobs.”

  “Are you sure it’s not for the power and influence?”

  He lounged back, trying his best to look nonchalant. “That’s not my focus at all. Why so skeptical?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He didn’t buy it, and he wanted to get to the bottom of her thought processes. “Why?”

  It took her a minute to answer. “I don’t... It sure seems to be working for Hank Watkins.”

  Deacon tried to read her expression, but it was carefully neutral. For some reason, she was hiding her feelings about Hank’s political power. Deacon couldn’t tell which way to play this. So he waited.

  She leaned forward and lifted her bottle of water, twisting off the cap and setting it down. “Hank says he can make the rose garden go away.”

  Deacon hid his reflexive annoyance. “He offered to fix your rose garden problem?”

  “He did.”

  “Did you take him up on it?” Deacon hated the thought of Hank having leverage over her.

  She frowned, her eyes hardening. “No.”

  “Good. I’ll donate to the committee again.” And this time, he’d make the donation big enough to make sure Lawrence stayed loyal.

  “No,” Callie said.

  “What do you mean no? That’s how we do an end run around Hank.”

  “It feels too much like bribery.”

  “It’s not bribery. It’s maybe, at most, gaining a little influence.”

  “You just said you didn’t care about power and influence.”

  “I don’t.” What he cared about was helping Callie and disempowering Hank.

  “Then why are you using it?”

  “I’m not a politician, Callie.” Deacon could see that he’d gone down the wrong path on that one, but it didn’t mean he’d leave the field open for Hank to fix her problem.

  “Not yet,” she said.

  “Maybe never. I’m a long, long way from a decision like that.”

  The doorbell rang.

  She rose.

  He stood with her. “I’ll get that.”

  She nodded, looking sad and dejected. Their mood was completely ruined.

  He moved to face her and took her hand. “I’m sorry.”

  “I am, too.” Her eyes were wide and glassy.

  “I won’t make another donation.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Do you want me to leave?”

  She hesitated. Then she slowly shook her head. “Stay.”

  He felt a huge weight come off his chest.

  * * *

  Callie had postponed long enough. It had been nearly a week since Hank had showed his true colors, and she owed it to Hannah to tell her the truth. The last staff member had just gone home for the evening, so it was only Callie and Hannah finishing the paperwork and calculating the day’s bank deposit.

  “You should get home to the boys,” Hannah suggested as she sorted through the cash, putting it in neat stacks into the deposit bag.

  Callie pulled a second chair up to the small round table in the compact office. There wasn’t much room next to the bookshelf, so she leaned forward. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you,” she opened.

  Hannah smiled without looking up. “About a certain hunky tourist who’s been hanging around every day, gazing at you like a lovesick calf?”

  Callie didn’t think that was a particularly accurate description of Deacon. But she was determined to stay on topic. “It’s about Hank.”

  Hannah did look up. “Is something wrong? He hasn’t been in for a few days. Did he catch that flu that’s been going around?”

  “It’s not the flu.”

  “What is it? What’s happened?”

  “I saw him last Thursday, at the beautification committee meeting.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I didn’t say anything to you then, but he went against me on the rose garden.”

  Hannah straightened a stack of twenties and put a band around them. “I’m sorry he did that. But maybe he had his reasons.”

  Callie slid a round mesh pencil holder over in front of her, absently separating the pens by color as she talked. “You really like him, don’t you?”

  “Everybody likes him. He’s a great guy.”

  “Thing is.” Callie put the four reds pens in a row. “He might not be such a great guy.”

  “Just because he’s in favor of the rose garden?”

  “I was mad about that. I admit it. But then...” Callie drew out a black sharpie that didn’t match anything else and tapped it on the table. “He said something, Hannah. I’m so sorry, but he...I guess...propositioned me.”

  Hannah’s chin dropped.

  Now that she’d broken the ice, Callie wanted to get it al
l out in the open. “He told me he was attracted to me. He said we could be a perfect little family, and if I agreed to be with him, the rose garden and all my other problems would go away.”

  Hannah swallowed. She seemed to be having trouble finding her voice. “What did you say?”

  “I said no.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m not interested in Hank.” The only man Callie was interested in was Deacon.

  She didn’t want to insult Hannah by sharing her true feelings about Hank. She only wanted to stop Hannah from fantasizing about him. Hank was no good for Hannah. But Callie hated to hurt her friend’s feelings.

  Hannah began flipping through a stack of fives. “I sure called that one wrong, didn’t I? Oh, well, what could I expect? The good ones always go for younger women.”

  Callie covered Hannah’s hand with hers. “That’s not always true. And Hank isn’t one of the good ones.”

  “Just because he’s attracted to you instead of me? That’s perfectly normal. Look at you. You’re extraordinary.”

  “I’m not extraordinary. I’m completely ordinary. And Hank was more interested in how the four of us would look as a family for his political career than he was in me personally. He doesn’t even know me.”

  “Well, I know you,” Hannah said with conviction. “And you are amazing.”

  “So are you. And you’re beautiful. And any man would be beyond lucky to date you. But it’s not Hank. You’re way too good for Hank.”

  “That doesn’t seem to be the way Hank sees it.”

  “Hank’s a fool.”

  A sheen came up in Hannah’s eyes. “I’m the fool for thinking I had a shot.”

  Callie squeezed her hand, not sure what else to say.

  “You should go home,” Hannah told her. “James and Ethan will be waiting.”

  “I wish this hadn’t happened,” Callie said.

  “Well, I’m glad it did. No point in an old woman like me pining for someone who’s never even noticed her.”

  Callie smiled, hoping to lighten the mood. “You’re not old. And you’re not pining. You just had a misguided crush.”

  “Crushes are for high school.”

  “Crushes are for everybody. And you’ll have another one. And it’ll be soon. It’s almost June, and the town’s filling up with tourists, and new customers walk through that door every day. Heck, if Mobi Transport opens up a new terminal, the town may be crawling with single men.”