Dr. O's Baby (Baby Surprises Book 5)

by Layla Valentine

“Of course there is,” Staci said with a wave of her hand. “Do you have any idea how many people have been waiting for this place to reopen? Even without dollar drafts you’d have had a crowd.”

  “A crowd,” Alana purred. “Of thirsty, thirsty men. How’s my dress?”

  Staci helped her adjust to emphasize her assets to the maximum level, and we all went in by the side door. I hadn’t been inside the bar since Nick had started renovations, and I was a little nervous about it. I’d told him how much time the girls and I had spent there, but in retrospect, I hadn’t really emphasized how much the place meant to me. At least, I didn’t think I had.

  But when the lights came on, every ounce of apprehension washed out of me in a delighted sigh. It was virtually identical; polished and painted, an upgrade here and there, but mostly the same. Except…

  “Nick! Our table!” I rushed over to it, unable to believe what I was seeing. Where there had once been angel wings engraved on the wall, there was now a heart shape; inside, a beautiful minimalist-styled painting of a couple with a brilliant light glowing between them. Beneath, the words “Only the beginning” were engraved on the wall, shimmering with gold leaf.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said as tears sprang to my eyes. “Oh, it must have cost a fortune!”

  “Nah, not really,” he said flippantly. He couldn’t hide the tenderness in his tone, not from me.

  I turned around to throw my arms around him, but stopped short and clapped my hands over my face. Nick was down on one knee in front of me, holding out a purple velvet box.

  “Carmen Jones, you wonderful woman, you changed my life. You saved my life. Everything I ever needed—everything I ever wanted—lives in you. You’re sunshine. You’re my best friend. You are the mother of my child—and all my future children, if that’s what you want. I want to spend my life repaying you for the endless, infinite gifts you’ve given to me. Carmen, will you marry me?”

  “Yes,” I whispered through tears of joy. Then, sobbing, “God, Nick, yes! All of the yesses!”

  I did throw my arms around him then, and he lifted me up off the ground in his strong, glorious embrace. My friends were laughing and crying and whooping behind us, but I paid them no mind. His mouth was on mine, igniting my soul. But the cheering grew louder and louder around us until I was forced to open my eyes, and after I saw what was happening, I buried my burning face in Nick’s shoulder.

  Someone had opened the door and let in the crowd, and half of Boston was cheering us on. Laughing, I thanked everybody for their congratulations and best wishes, then purred into Nick’s ear.

  “We should dance.”

  “You got it, darlin’! Hey, DJ. Let’s get this party started!”

  The platform at the back of the bar lit up in bright green and purple lights. The upgraded light show was my favorite part of everything Nick had done; it washed the dance floor in undulating dark colors, pulling the crowd irresistibly toward it as the music swelled.

  I dragged Nick to the dance floor the same way I had on our very first date and ran face-first into that same explosion of anticipation and excitement. It was somehow heightened now that he wasn’t an irresistibly attractive stranger, but my fiancé; the man I’d been sharing my home, child and life with for the past six months.

  We danced and drank, celebrating what really felt like the first day of the rest of our lives. Engaged to be married, opening our own business…we were finally moving up in the world.

  “You’re going to meet your goal,” Nick said, speaking close to my ear.

  “What?”

  “House, kids, business, and marriage before you’re thirty-five.”

  I paused, then burst out laughing. “I guess I am,” I said. “I just had to take a few detours to get here.”

  He grinned at me happily, then his expression softened into a sultry warmth. Pulling me close, he smothered my lips in his, igniting me from head to toe with his kiss. I couldn’t believe that he still had that effect on me, but I knew now that it would last forever.

  “You’re everything I wanted,” I told him, kissing his jaw. “Everything I needed.”

  He pulled me close as we rocked together on the dance floor. “There’s one place I didn’t show you yet,” he said, gesturing at the ceiling with his eyes.

  “The roof?”

  “The apartment.”

  “There’s—” But before I could finish the question, he was pulling me through the crowd to the bar, then behind the bar into a long back room, then through the back room to a door. The door opened to a humble flight of wooden stairs; the old, solid kind of stairs which make you remember just how much history they’ve supported.

  “I never knew the bar had the upstairs too.”

  “Turns out, Orin was living up here. Saved a bundle. He’s king of Miami now.” Nick grinned over his shoulder, and I was so happy that he was happy for somebody I cared about that I just about burst.

  “I changed this apartment a lot more than I changed the downstairs,” he said as he opened the door at the top of the stairs. “I’ll have this space as my office. That way I can leave all thoughts of work here and concentrate on you and Mia when I’m home.”

  As Nick brought me into the private little space, I didn’t know what to expect. Nick had turned the loft into a stunning office. He had a modern desk, guest chairs, sitting area, and file cabinets. I watched him walk over to a wall of shelves, pull on something, and a Murphy bed folded down from the wall. Then I noticed that rose petals and candles decorated the floor and built-in shelves, making the whole room feel magical.

  “I love you, Carmen,” Nick whispered, gazing down at me liquidly. “Be mine forever?”

  “Forever and always, my love.”

  With a groan of pleasure, Nick swept me off my feet in a bear hug and kissed my mouth. My legs were wrapped around his torso before he had begun to swing me around, to plant me square in the center of the bed, to crush me into the welcoming cloud of sensual softness with his hot, hard body.

  “Oh, Nick.” I gazed up into his smoldering eyes. “I almost can’t believe it.”

  “Believe it, baby,” he said as his hands trailed down my neck and over my breasts. “I couldn’t ask for better.”

  Sighing happily, I let him take me, body, heart, and soul. Hot lips trailed over my skin as he tugged my dress up over my hips, kissing up my thighs and then stomach as he pulled the dress higher. When my dress was fully off and cast aside, his fingers caressed my skin along the edge of my bra before unclasping it. My ample breasts spilled out, his mouth and tongue teasing my sensitive skin and sending chills down my spine. His lips and hands moved lower, enjoying my body while the sensation created a desire and need for him stronger than I’d ever felt before.

  Soon his fingers, dancing around my hot wetness, discovered the intensity of my need for him. Shaking and moaning, I arched into his touch as molten desire swirled through my veins. Like a magician, his fingers found their way inside of me without wasting time removing the thin silk barrier.

  It always felt fresh and new and exciting, no matter how often we touched.

  Crying out, tangling my fingers in his hair, I wordlessly begged for more. He answered with the heel of his hand, pressing against my desire as his fingers worked their magic deep inside of me. I sobbed his name as I came, crushing his fingers with wanton pulses.

  “Yes, baby,” he growled, stripping out of his shirt and kicking off his pants. “God, you’re so sexy.”

  I could only whimper as I wriggled out of my panties. There, in the office of the business he’d worked and saved diligently for, wrapped up in the relationship we’d both exchanged our plans and pride for, we entwined. Every bit of it had been worth it.

  He brought me to screaming, shaking climax, again and again, whispering wedding vows and sweet promises in my ear as he gave himself to me, as he took me, playing both of our bodies until we were humming with pleasure and beyond satisfied.

  As we lay tangled together in t
he afterglow, Nick kissed my forehead and winked at me.

  “Happily ever after, darlin’.”

  The End

  I hope you’ve enjoyed Nick and Carmen’s story! Sign up to my mailing list and be the first to hear about all my new releases.

  Layla x

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  Rock ’n’ Stroller

  Layla Valentine & Holly Rayner

  Time for a tease!

  Up next is the first chapter of the previous book in our Baby Surprises series, Rock ’n’ Stroller

  Happy reading!

  Layla & Holly x

  Copyright 2019 by Layla Valentine and Holly Rayner

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part by any means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the explicit written permission of the author.

  All characters depicted in this fictional work are consenting adults, of at least eighteen years of age. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased, particular businesses, events, or exact locations are entirely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  Kendra

  August

  The tickets were nosebleed, but that didn’t matter. For me, it was backstage or bust.

  “I still can’t believe you’re doing this,” came the voice of my best friend Blaire Walsh through the speakerphone.

  “You really can’t believe that I’m doing it?” I asked. “Of all people?”

  “Okay,” she said, quickly correcting herself. “I can most definitely believe that you’re doing it. So, let me rephrase—I can’t believe that anyone would be crazy enough to try something like this.”

  Dressed in nothing but a matching red bra and panties, I put my hands on my hips and stepped back from the bed where I’d laid out my outfit for tonight. I cocked my head and weighed the pros and cons.

  “You there?” asked Blaire.

  “I’m here,” I said. “Just trying to figure out what I’m wearing tonight.”

  “Well,” she said. “If getting into backstage is your plan, then I’d put on whatever showed off those boobs of yours.”

  “Good thinking,” I said. “But that’s not how this little caper’s going off.”

  “Oh really?” asked Blaire. “Not going to wink and smile at security?”

  “No way,” I said. “You saunter up to the staff and play it like that, and they’ll toss you into the groupie pen.”

  “Mmm,” said Blaire. “That doesn’t sound too bad to me.”

  “Blaire!” I shout out, a smile on my face. “You’re terrible.”

  “What?” she asked. “You’re going to all this trouble to see Memphisto in the flesh—the very, very gorgeous flesh, I might add—and you’re not even kind of into the idea of hooking up with the great Johnny Maxton himself?”

  I turned on my feet and laid my eyes on the picture open on my laptop across the room, guitar-heavy rock pouring out of the speakers and filling my room. The picture was of Memphisto, the rock band that was on everyone’s lips—not to mention in everyone’s ears.

  All of the guys were gorgeous, each one of them dressed in black and white, their skin painted with tattoos, come-hither expressions in their eyes. But Johnny…he was something else.

  I stepped over to the screen and got a better look, taking in his ice-blue eyes, his hard, sensual glare, his jet-black hair tied up into a small samurai ponytail. The sleeves of his white V-neck shirt were ripped off, putting his broad, taut shoulders and bulging biceps on full display. My heart skipped more than a few beats just looking at him. His eyes seemed to stare right through me, his gaze as hypnotic as his music.

  “Earth to Kendra,” came Blaire’s voice.

  I shook my head, snapping myself back into the moment.

  “Sorry,” I said. “Just got a lot on my mind.”

  “Sure,” said Blaire. “I’ll bet.”

  I could almost hear her devilish grin through the phone.

  “Anyway,” she said. “Tell me about this big plan of yours.”

  “It’s easy,” I said. “I put on a USD uniform—”

  “Wait, ‘USD’ as in ‘United Seattle Delivery’?”

  “Exactly like that,” I said.

  “Where’d you get one of their uniforms?”

  “Our regular delivery guy at the label did me a solid,” I said. “He found me a ‘lost’ uniform, and I slipped him a few review copies of some of our latest releases.”

  “Damn,” said Blaire. “Owning your own label sure has its perks.”

  “You bet it does.”

  “Okay,” said Blaire. “Then what? Assuming you manage to bluff your way back there, what’s the play? You moon at him like a star-struck fan before he gets security to take you out of there?”

  “I talk with him.”

  “You ‘talk with him’?” she asked. “About what? Favorites pizza toppings?”

  “No,” I said. “I put an idea in his head.”

  “And what sort of idea might that be, Miss Inception?”

  I stepped over to my laptop and clicked on the tab of a video interview with Johnny I had open.

  “Let me show this to you,” I said. “And you tell me what you think.”

  “Shoot.”

  “So, the interviewer asks, ‘what sort of new directions are you planning on going with Memphisto’s next album?’”

  “Sure.”

  “Now, check out what the reaction is.”

  I turned on the video setting for the phone, Blaire’s cute face appearing on the screen.

  “Oh, hey there,” she said.

  I smiled and gave a little wave before turning the phone to the screen.

  “Watch.”

  I hit play, which started right as the interviewer finished the question that I’d described. The band was all seated together, Johnny looking as gorgeous and brooding as ever.

  “We’re going in a massive, riff-heavy, bone-crunching direction for this next album,” said Marcus Thorne, the rhythm guitarist, his sun-blond hair draping down as he leaned forward to speak. “Something that’s made to get stadium crowds moving. Maybe some EDM influences—who knows?”

  “Sounds amazing,” said the interviewer. “I assume this new sound has been a collaboration between you and Johnny, just like the last few albums?”

  I hit pause right as the shot switched to a close-up of Johnny.

  “Damn, he’s hot,” said Blaire.

  “Pay attention,” I said through a smirk.

  “What? You expect me to ignore that?”

  “Do your best,” I said. “Because what he says next is the important part. Or I should say, what he doesn’t say next.”

  “Okay,” said Blaire.

  I hit play.

  “Yeah,” said Johnny, speaking in his impossibly sexy, laid-back purr. “Though this one’s looking like it’s going to be Marcus’s baby in a lot of ways.”

  That was all he had to say. He looked away, the interviewer realizing that Johnny wasn’t going to be adding anything more.

  I hit pause again, then set the phone down propped-up where I wouldn’t have to mess with it.

  “You see that?” I asked. I snatched the pair of skin-tight, ripped black jeans off the bed and shimmied into them.

  “See what?” said Blaire. “Sounded like a pretty blah answer.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” I said, grabbing the T-shirt for one of my favorite nineties grunge bands, Bass Shift, and pulling it on over my head.

  “You’ve lost me.”

  “I’ve been following Johnny for years,” I said. “Watching his interviews and all that. He’s always super hyped-up about his music, eager to talk about all the ins and outs of the creative process. You can tell it’s what he loves more than anything.”

  “Sure,” said Blaire.

  “Now compare that to this
interview. What did you notice?”

  “It was blah, like I said.”

  “Exactly.”

  “What,” said Blaire. “You’re thinking that means Johnny’s not all that excited about the work?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m thinking,” I said. “Compare that to Marcus, who’s all about it. Their new sound is totally different, too. I mean, it’s good—how could it not be with Memphisto—but it’s so big and over-the-top. Johnny used to always be about that stripped-down sound, and now it’s totally different.”

  “I’m listening. Let’s hear your thesis statement,” said Blaire with a smile.

  “My thinking is that for whatever reason, Johnny’s heart isn’t in it anymore. Maybe Marcus is really into this new sound and Johnny’s going along with it, or maybe, just maybe, their label’s pushing them in a direction he’s not crazy about.”

  “Uh-oh,” said Blaire. “I think I know where this is going.”

  “So,” I said. “I talk to Johnny, let him know who I am. Slip him my card. Maybe that gets him thinking about what he might do if he didn’t have a big, huge label looking over his shoulder while he wrote.”

  “Are you really thinking that you might convince him to come over to Avalon?”

  Avalon Records was my up-and-coming, but somewhat small-at-the-moment, record label. We specialized in local bands for the most part, but since I finally managed to get the label profitable over the last year, I’ve been racking my brain trying to come up with ways to take us to the next level.

  “That’s what I’m hoping.”

  “No offense, but what makes you think that a massive star like Johnny would be interested in leaving behind his label? They can offer him money, major perks, the newest gear…”

  “Sure,” I said. “And that’s a good point. But what we can offer him is something he’s clearly not getting under his current contract—complete and total creative control.”