Pregnant by the Billionaire

by Karen Booth

  A verifiable chill ran up Kendall’s spine. James Locke was evil. Pure evil. She didn’t care what he was threatening her with. She’d explain everything to Jillian if something like that happened. “I see. Well, I’m sorry, but I’ll have to politely decline your offer.”

  “There’s no need to say no to anything today. Take some time to think about it.” He handed over a business card and the driver closed the door, rounding the front of the car.

  Kendall would’ve stood there, flabbergasted, if she wasn’t aware that James Locke was watching her right now. He had to think that she was nothing but sheer determination, even if she was scared out of her wits and shaking like a leaf. She threw back her head and marched down the sidewalk, all while her heart threatened to beat its way right out of her chest and the dark cloud overhead began to spit rain on her. As soon as the car passed her and turned the corner, she ducked under a shop awning, pulled out her phone and dialed Sawyer.

  The line rang and rang. Please answer. Please answer. She got his voice mail. This is Sawyer Locke. Leave a message.

  Short. Sweet. Not what she wanted to hear. “Sawyer, it’s Kendall.” Her voice trembled, half out of fear, half out of anger. Take money and business out of the equation—James and Sawyer Locke were flesh and blood. How could he treat his own son this way? It turned her stomach. “I need to talk to you right away. Please call me. Just make sure you’re somewhere where you can talk. The things I need to tell you are top secret.”

  She hung up the phone and tucked it into her bag. Her train was long gone by now. The rain was coming down. She raced to the corner and thrust her hand into the air, just as the sky opened up. She hitched her coat up over her head, but the icy drops fell so fast they collected and dripped down her nose. Wind whipped at her cheeks. “Come on. Come on,” she muttered, bobbing her head back and forth, desperately looking down the street as traffic barreled past her, every cab with its top light off—occupied. It was always impossible to catch a taxi in the city when it was raining, but she needed to get to the office ASAP and try to come up with some plausible reason why she was late. There was no way Jillian would believe what had just happened.

  With every minute and every taken cab that passed, she became even more drenched and her dislike of James Locke grew—a rich man had completely ruined her day, all because he wanted her to risk everything for him. Finally, she spotted an available taxi. She practically launched herself into the middle of the street, landing in a puddle. The driver zipped up along a parked car, splashing water all over her legs. She opened the door and collapsed onto the seat. “Fifty-Seventh between Madison and Park. Closer to Park. South side of the street.”

  “Traffic is bad. This might take a while.”

  “That’s fine.” She sat back, water dripping from her hair onto the seat. “Take your time.”

  If she’d thought she was tired a half hour ago, being wet, scared senseless and feeling totally defenseless made it so much worse.

  * * *

  Sawyer walked out of his morning meeting with Noah and strolled down the hall to his office, checking his phone. One missed call and message. From Kendall. He couldn’t help it, but his pulse bucked like a wild horse when he saw her name, even when he was still angry with her about the ring. Even when he knew damn well that she was determined to keep things professional between them and he needed to muster the same determination.

  His heart felt an entirely different way when he listened to her message. There was distress in her voice and it pained him to hear it. Top secret? Something bad had happened. He felt it in his bones.

  “I’m not to be disturbed, okay?” he asked Lily as he passed her desk. “Even if Noah says it’s important, he’ll have to wait.”

  “Of course, Mr. Locke.”

  Sawyer made a mental note to send Lily flowers or buy her a gift certificate for a nice night out. She was bearing the brunt of working in a very stressful environment these days. He retreated into his office and closed the door behind him, quickly dialing Kendall’s number.

  “Oh, thank God,” Kendall blurted into the phone.

  “Are you okay?” He walked to the window that looked down at the red-leaved tree. Nearly half of its foliage was gone now, most of the leaves knocked down today by the rain. Still, it had that deep, rich hue that made him think of her.

  “Yeah. I’m fine,” she answered, her voice heavy and weary. “No. Actually, that’s not true. I’m not fine. I talked to your dad and I’m completely freaked out.”

  “My dad called you?”

  “No. Worse. He waited for me outside my apartment this morning, Sawyer. It was scary. I’m not used to this cloak-and-dagger stuff. Your family is crazy.”

  Fury rose so quickly inside him that he had to keep from punching a hole in the nearest wall. It was one thing to go after him, quite another to go after a woman, waiting for her outside her home. He was overcome with a need to protect her. She never would’ve been in the situation at all if he hadn’t hired her firm. “Where are you right now?”

  “I’m in a cab on my way to the office. But I feel like we should talk about this in person.”

  “Do you want me to come to you?”

  “Honestly? No. After what he said to me, I’m paranoid to discuss it in my own office.”

  Sawyer was fairly certain his own office was secure, but there were bits of information that kept finding their way to his dad. “Would you feel okay going to my apartment? We can talk. I’ll have lunch brought in.”

  She hesitated to answer and that set him even more on edge. “Under one condition. We can’t tell anyone where we’re meeting.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because my boss won’t tolerate any appearance of an improper relationship with a client. If she found out I was going to your apartment, she’d flip her lid.”

  This was far too much like covert ops for Sawyer, but he had to find out what was going on, and he couldn’t deny that if he could choose anything to do today, being alone with Kendall was his first choice. Even with the revelation of the ring, and the reminder of past betrayal it had given him, it had also brought good news—she was single. “Of course. That’s no problem. I’ll text you the address. I can be there in fifteen minutes. If you get there first, the doorman’s name is Walter. Tell him I’m on my way. You can wait inside. He’ll take good care of you.”

  “Great. I’ll call Jillian and let her know we’re meeting. I just won’t specify where we’re going.”

  Sawyer began packing up his things. “Perfect.”

  “One more thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m going to need some dry clothes.”

  Six

  Walter the doorman was not welcoming. Not even close. Probably because Kendall was dripping water all over his pristine lobby.

  “Mr. Locke isn’t home right now.” Walter’s Staten Island accent was unmistakable. “Perhaps you could wait for him outside. If he really is coming like you said...” Everything in his eyes said that Kendall was nothing more than an unbalanced person who’d wandered into his domain to create problems.

  “What are you implying? And I’m not going back out in that rain. I’m already soaking wet.” Could anything else go wrong today? Perhaps a flock of birds could swoop in from the street and build a nest in her hair.

  “It’s the middle of the work day. It would be highly unusual for Mr. Locke to come home right now. And—” he cleared his throat and straightened his jacket “—and normally, if Mr. Locke has a guest, he does not have her wait for him in the lobby.”

  Of course. Walter was used to seeing Sawyer with plenty of women—just not ones who deposited pools of water wherever they went. “I’m a work colleague. All I can tell you is that he’s on his way.”

  “It’s also unusual that he didn’t call to tell me.” />
  “I tried his cell. It’s going straight to voice mail.”

  “That’s unfortunate.”

  Kendall had had her fill of uncooperative men today. “Do I look like I’m having fun?” She threw up her hands, flinging droplets of water across the room.

  He shook his head in dismay. “Fifteen minutes. You can wait for fifteen minutes. Just please don’t sit on anything. Perhaps you can stand over there. In the corner.”

  Walter headed for the front doors. The elevator dinged. Out rushed Sawyer. “I got here as soon as I could.” The flush on his cheeks gave Kendall the tiniest glimmer of hope that today might get better. He’d dropped everything to get to her. At least there was one guy on her side. “You’re soaked.”

  “You noticed.”

  “So you do know her, Mr. Locke,” Walter said.

  “Yes. Of course I do.”

  “My apologies.” He cleared his throat and pulled Sawyer aside. “She’s not the first woman who’s shown up on your doorstep claiming to know you.”

  Kendall rolled her eyes. Walter was officially not her favorite person.

  “I’m so sorry. I should’ve let you know Kendall was coming. I got a call on my way out of the office. I wasn’t thinking.” Sawyer raised his arm to put it around her shoulders, but clearly thought better of it and tentatively patted her on the back instead. “Come on. Let’s get you upstairs.” Inside the elevator, Sawyer punched a code into a keypad and pressed the button for PH. The penthouse.

  Kendall couldn’t ignore what her body wanted right then and there—a pair of sweats straight out of the dryer, a fluffy blanket and a cup of tea. She wanted to lean on Sawyer, have him rein her in with those long arms of his, comfort her and warm her up. She didn’t want to talk. She was too tired to tell Sawyer what had happened, and now that the adrenaline of the last hour had abated, she wasn’t eager to relive that rattling moment when his dad had threatened her.

  The elevator came to a stop and they stepped right into his apartment. As horrible as she’d felt about flooding the lobby, she felt ten times worse now. What she could see of his private domain was pure luxury—glossy wood floors without a speck of dust, original works of art perfectly lit, expensive-looking furniture.

  Sawyer took off his coat and hung it in a closet next to the front door. “Let’s get you out of those wet clothes.”

  As if she wasn’t disoriented enough, his words were straight out of their tryst in Maine. Let’s get you out of that dress. Between his seductive lips and his capable hands, he’d had her ready to climb out of her clothes that night, but she hadn’t divulged that bit of information at the time. No...she’d turned her back to him and let him unzip her, let him push the straps from her shoulder, sweep her hair to the side and kiss that spot on her neck that made it nearly impossible to remain standing.

  She wasn’t feeling anywhere close to that sexy right now. She stood with her arms by her side, afraid to move, lest she splash dirty New York rain all over his stunning apartment.

  Sawyer reached for the lapel of her wool coat. “May I?”

  He waited as she unbuttoned it. He was inches away, eyes cast down, watching. She was not only aware of every breath he took and the way his chest rose, she found her own breath falling in sync with it. This was the impossible part of working with Sawyer—sharing the same space, knowing they weren’t supposed to touch. It made her pulse turn sideways in her throat, threatening to close it up. He was being so sweet right now, it only made this harder. Last button undone, she looked up at him as he lifted the heavy garment from her shoulders.

  “How long were you outside?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. A week? You know how hard it is to catch a cab when it’s raining. Your dad offered to drop me at my office, but I wasn’t about to do that.”

  “You aren’t big on accepting rides, are you?”

  “Very funny.”

  “Probably a good move. I’m just sorry you paid such a price. I want to hear what happened, but I’m going to hang your coat up in the laundry room to dry. Two secs.”

  Kendall slipped off her shoes, waiting on the Persian rug in the entry, hoping it wasn’t a priceless heirloom. She was afraid to explore, even though her dress wasn’t soaked like her coat. She craned her neck to see more of his apartment. It was impeccably decorated with a distinct bachelor edge—coffee-brown leather furniture in the living room straight ahead. What she could see of the dining room to her right was elegant, but not overdone—ebony wood chairs and a tasteful chandelier. There was no clutter. Nothing sentimental. Was the Locke family estate out on Long Island like this? Kendall had seen a picture of it, taken from outside the stone walls circling the property. She could only imagine what it had been like for Sawyer to grow up like that, never wanting for anything, except perhaps a father who wasn’t cold as ice.

  Sawyer appeared again. “Now for dry clothes.” His low voice and the vision of him coming for her, all on the perfect day to fall into bed, were too much to take. Her current status of sex-obsessed tired person wasn’t making this any easier. If she wanted to go anywhere in his apartment right now, it was his bed.

  “That’d be great. This dress can’t go in the dryer, but maybe if I hang it up, it’ll be okay in an hour or two.” She briefly surveyed her disheveled clothes, then peered back up at him. Now that she wasn’t in heels, he seemed impossibly tall. He had a build that she found irresistible. It was as if he was encoded on her DNA—broad and lean, not a bodybuilder but muscular. She could imagine him having been slim as a boy, maybe even a bit skinny. But now he was all filled out.

  “Let’s find you something.” He gestured for her to follow with a nod, and she trailed him down a long hall to his bedroom. Hopefully he wasn’t about to present her with clothing left behind by other women. Chances were they wouldn’t fit, unless Sawyer made a habit of dating women with big busts and curvy bums. He seemed to be more of a slender-supermodel sort of guy.

  They passed a number of rooms—one appeared to be his office, another a guest room. He wasn’t offering details, like someone giving a tour, and she wasn’t asking. Best for them to not get too involved anyway, this was already too messy. She’d crossed the line by coming here. If Jillian knew where she was, she could lose her job, no matter how innocent it might be.

  Sawyer’s bedroom, his inner sanctum, was as gorgeous as the rest of the apartment—inviting, but impeccable. It was on the corner of the building, with windows on two sides. Ivory walls provided a neutral backdrop for an upholstered headboard of gray wool with nailhead trim. Beautiful antique maps of the city were framed on one wall. Another wall had a large black-and-white photo of the Grand Legacy, complete with the round window on the front of the building. The bed itself was a sprawling slice of heaven, a fluffy white duvet and lots of pillows. Exactly how rude was it to crawl into someone else’s bed, uninvited?

  Sawyer strolled into his closet. Kendall stood just outside in front of his bureau. It was a substantial piece, possibly an antique, with a silver-framed photograph of a beautiful woman with three children clustered around her. She leaned closer. A Christmas tree was in the background, and there was Sawyer, just as skinny as she’d guessed, with a contented smile on his face.

  He emerged from the closet. “I know these will be big on you, but hopefully they’ll work until your dress is dry.”

  “Is this your mom?” she asked, pointing to the picture. “You and Noah and your sister?”

  “Yep.” He nodded. “Christmas morning.”

  “Your mom was stunning. Absolutely gorgeous.” Kendall had found little information about Sawyer’s mother, other than that she had passed away when he was eleven, and it had happened suddenly. The obituary contained remarkably few details.

  He nodded, and for a blip of time, he seemed to get lost in the picture. “She really was. But that’s my dad for you. Al
ways with a beautiful woman on his arm.”

  Like father like son. “You look really happy.”

  “That was a long time ago.” He took his sights from the picture and handed her a pair of black sweatpants and a faded red Cornell sweatshirt. “I’ll show you to the guest room. There’s an attached bath. Should have a hairdryer if you want to use it.”

  “Great. Thank you.”

  Sawyer led her to the room next door, which was far more feminine—a white four-poster, pale lavender duvet and a fluffy throw at the foot of the bed. “Please tell me you had a designer work on this room. It’s so pretty. And completely different from the rest of the apartment.”

  He laughed quietly. “My aunt Fran stays here when she’s over from England. She likes it this way.”

  “Is your aunt British?”

  “No. Fran was my mom’s sister. She moved overseas after my mom passed away.”

  Kendall could’ve dug deeper about Sawyer’s family, but she’d been so focused on the hotel. “I had no idea.”

  “My sister, Charlotte, stays in this room sometimes when she’s between apartments or jobs. Things are always up in the air with her, but she refuses to stay with my dad out on Long Island.”

  “Is it the location or the host?”

  “The host. I’m not the only one my dad rubs the wrong way.”

  So she hadn’t overreacted when James Locke had cornered her that morning. Kendall hugged the clothes to her chest. “You can go now. So I can get dressed.”

  The corners of his mouth twitched as if he was employing great effort to not smile. “Right. I should let you change.”

  “Seeing me naked once was enough.” Why she’d had to put it that way was beyond her. Nothing like tempting fate.