by Amy Brent
Once we were settled in and we'd decided on what to eat, Jack uncorked a bottle of champagne and poured us each a glass. “I'm glad for the chance to see you again, Camille,” he said, raising his glass. I raised mine and tapped it gently against his, then set it down without taking a sip.
“So, how have you been?” He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table. He still looked like the same old Jack. He was dressed simply, in slacks and a black t-shirt, and to look at him you never would have guessed that he was a billionaire.
Billionaire. I couldn't get my head around how much money a billion dollars really was. I'd grown up poor and worked my way through college to earn my archaeology degree. I was still paying off my student loans.
“I'm fine,” I said, my voice tight. I'd planned out everything I had to say, but it was getting all jumbled now that I was here. “Listen, Jack, we need to sort this out. About us. If there is an us, I mean.”
“I'd like there to be,” he said. “I know you must still be mad at me, but can you at least understand why I did what I did? I mean, it's not like I can travel under my own identity. You saw what happened...those men somehow figured out who I was, and they came after me.”
I hadn't thought about that before. It's likely the terrorists didn't just want to stop us from violating their holy grounds. Jack Tremaine would have been a valuable hostage. Even if they didn't care about money (most extremists didn't), they could have made a public example of him. Killing a rich American industrialist would raise them up in the eyes of those that supported their cause.
“I understand,” I said. I took a sip of my water, wishing I could try the champagne so I could calm my nerves. “But what happens now? It ain't like we can have a normal relationship.”
“Why can't we?” he asked. “I don't live a high society life. I prefer to travel. You can come with me. There's got to be plenty of places around the world you'd like to see. We can scout locations for future expeditions, and see the world while we're at it.”
“That isn't going to work,” I said. I couldn't see hauling a baby around the world, jetting from one country to another. I couldn't set up a crib at the edge of an excavation site while I was on a dig. “I need to settle down for a while. I'm thinking about teaching.”
“Teaching?” He arched an eyebrow. “That works too. I have some contacts at quite a few universities. I can help set you up with something.”
“I don't need your help.” I shook my head. “I can get by on my own merits.”
“Of course.” He gave me an apologetic smile. “I didn't mean to imply otherwise.”
We were quiet for a while as we ate. I couldn't figure out how to say the things that needed to be said, or ask the things that needed to be asked. I couldn't just come right out and tell him I was pregnant. He'd want to get married and take care of the baby, just because it was the right thing to do. But then I'd spend the rest of my life not knowing whether he actually wanted me, whether he loved me, or whether he was just saddled with me because he'd knocked me up.
Damn, I wished I hadn't gone and gotten myself into this mess.
“So what about the future?” I asked him.
“Our future?” he asked. “I hope it will be a bright one.”
“But have you actually thought about it?” I put down my fork and peered at him from across the table. “We had a fun few weeks out there, sure. But did you ever stop to think about whether it was going anywhere?”
“Actually,” he said, “I haven't been able to think about much of anything else.” He wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin, then set it on the table. “Listen, Camille. I'm not going to make any promises. This is just the beginning, right? We've got time to figure things out. I just want to get to know you more, to become a part of your life. And we can figure out the rest as we go along, can't we?”
“No,” I said, tears welling in my eyes. “We can't.”
“Why not?” He looked so distraught, half rising from his chair as if he thought I was about to run out the door and he'd need to catch me.
“Because I'm pregnant.”
He stared at me for a long moment. He settled back into his chair. He cleared his throat, then took a sip of his champagne.
“Oh,” he said.
“Oh?” I stared at him, leaning forward with my palms on the table. “Oh? Is that all you have to say? God damn it, Jack, I'm having a baby. Your baby. Don'tcha have anything more to say about that?”
“Have you been to a doctor yet?” he asked. “I can find you the best OBGYN in the state. And don't worry about the cost, I'll take care of everything.”
I sat there and stared at him. “That...that's it?” I grabbed my napkin and threw it at him. “You want to know about the damn doctor?”
He caught the napkin and set it aside. “I'm not sure what else to say. I'm a practical person, Camille. Your health, the baby's health, that's the most important thing. The first thing I thought of.”
I let the tension release from my shoulders. It was actually sweet, when I thought about it. He heard that I was pregnant, and his first instinct was to take care of me.
“What else do we need to talk about?” he asked. “Living arrangements? We've got time until the baby is born, so maybe we—”
“I want to talk about us, Jack.” I clenched the edge of the tablecloth in my fists. “I wasn't ready for this. I don't know what's going to happen. And before you even think it, don't go popping the question on me now. I want to focus on doing what's right for this baby, first, before we consider whether we want to get married or something. But we need to figure 'us' out. Figure out where this is going, how we're going to manage things.”
He smiled and rose from his chair, then circled around the table and knelt beside me. He took my hands in his and gave them an affectionate squeeze. “Don't you worry at all, Camille. We're going to take this one day at a time. We've got months before the baby is due, and we can spend that time getting to know each other more. Growing closer to each other. I'll make sure the baby is provided for, you have my word on that. And we'll figure 'us' out. The important thing is moving forward, right? We'll make a great future together. And when the time is right, when we have all the pieces in place and we know we're doing it for us, and not for the wrong reasons, then we'll talk about marriage, and the future, and all of that. Okay?”
Tears welled in my eyes. All I could do was nod. I leaned over and kissed his lips, glad that he was here for me, that he wasn't going to try to push me into something before I was ready. It was going to be a strange life, raising a baby with a daddy who was a billionaire and an ex-Navy SEAL. And a white boy, on top of that. My mama wouldn't bat an eyelash at the rest of it, but when I brought a white boy home to meet her, she was going to blow her top.
I put my arms around him and cradled his head against my chest. I hadn't expected any of this to happen, and I knew I wasn't ready for it. But was anyone ever really ready for a baby? The important thing was that our child would have two loving parents who would do anything to support and care for them. And I knew Jack would do whatever it took to provide for his child. Our baby wouldn't have to live through the kind of struggles my family had gone through while I was growing up. It wouldn't ever have to worry about whether there would be dinner on the table, or whether we could afford to take it to the doctor. It would grow up and go to college without ever having to worry about debt.
I cupped Jack's cheeks in my hands and raised his face towards mine. We kissed as tears of relief fell down my cheeks. After a few moments, our kiss became more urgent, filled with need. Jack stood up and took my hands, then led me out of the restaurant and to his car. We kissed more sitting in the parking lot, his hands roaming my body like we were a couple of teenagers. Then we went back to my apartment.
We headed back to the bedroom almost immediately. I worried about what Jack would think of my simple place, with my IKEA furniture and my dirty clothes strewn all over the floor. But he didn't show any signs of judg
ment for my middle-class lifestyle. He just focused on my needs, on my touch.
He lowered me onto the bed, gentle as can be. There was none of the urgent, athletic movement from our prior encounters. He was slow. He was tender. We savored every moment. He slowly pulled my clothes off, one piece at a time, his lips trailing kisses over the bare skin he exposed. Shivers ran up and down my body, and while part of me wanted to tell him to hurry and give me what I desperately needed, a bigger part of me wanted to cherish this experience.
We made love deep into the night, an elegant melding of our bodies into one. I lost track of time, of where Jack ended and I began, and of any worries beyond his touch, his kiss, his loving caress. Then, once it was over and our energy was spent, we lay there together as two lovers sharing each other's embrace.
Eventually Jack dozed off, and for a time I watched him sleep. My fingers traced tiny caresses along the lines of his face. I thought about the future and what it would bring. I thought about the life growing inside of me. I wondered whether it would be a boy or a girl. No matter what, this child would know love, support, and kindness in its life.
Our new life together would start the next day. I could already see it now. A new home, something simple, with no need for excessive luxuries. A big back yard our child could play in, unlike the row home I'd grown up in with barely more than a patch of scruffy grass out back. The best schools, the best care. And once our baby was grown, I knew we'd see the world together. I'd take my child to Africa, make sure it knew its roots. Recapture all of the history that my family had once lost. Laying there with Jack, dreaming of the future, I almost felt like I could actually see it all happening, like the folds of time were open to me and my baby's life was laid out there for me to explore.
In the morning I awoke with Jack still there in my arms. He opened his weary eyes and looked at me, a pleasant exhaustion etched across his features.
“Morning,” he said.
“Morning, love,” I said, smiling at him.
We kissed, then we touched, then we made love again as streams of early dawn sunlight poured over us through the bedroom window. Eventually we got dressed, lost in the quiet comfort of two people who had shared the deepest parts of themselves. The gentle romance of the moment lasted until a grumbling in my stomach reminded me that we hadn't really finished dinner last night.
“Hungry?” Jack asked as he pulled on his shoes.
“Mm-hmm.” I sighed, remembering that I hadn't stocked up the fridge since I got back into the country. “Can we go out to eat?”
“Certainly.” Jack smirked, standing up and buckling on his belt. That swagger that had first drawn me to him was back in his every step. “As a matter of fact, I know a lovely little place.”
“Oh?” I could see by the mischievous light in his eyes that he was up to something.
“In Paris,” he said. A grin slowly spread across his face.
“Well, what are we waiting for?” I said. We didn't bother to pack. Jack promised to buy me new clothes once we got there. I couldn't wait to see what the most romantic city in the world had in store for us. And it would be nice to travel around the world for pleasure, for once, instead of digging up ancient ruins and getting shot at by terrorists.
Though I reminded myself that when you were dating a rich, powerful, charming Navy SEAL, just about anything could happen.
Christmas with Boss Brothers (Billionaire Bosses Menage Collection)
My Christmas Gift (Book 1)
Chapter One
Monsters, giant cats and vampires spin around me as I rush from table to table during the last hour of my day shift at Kennedy’s, the newest and therefore busiest restaurant in an already fast paced city.
I bump into an evil fairy and groan. I’ve already had to wipe fake blood off of my white apron before it stained, and still I look like I had an accident with a kitchen knife.
“Don’t bother.” Charlie, bartender and my favorite coworker, says as I reach for a napkin on the bar counter. “It’s Halloween, a bit of fake blood isn’t going to hurt.”
“A bit of fake blood is going to stain.” I argue and thank him as he dips the end of a napkin in a glass of water. “And you know David would take a new apron out of my paycheck. Cheap ass.” I mutter and finish wiping it off. Charlie fixes his long dark ponytail and shakes his head.
I continue my rounds like a robot, laughing politely when appropriate and focusing only on my assigned tables. It’s one of those lucky nights where my shift ends before any of my tables are finished eating, and I’ll be able to pass them over to my best friend and least favorite coworker Camila when she clocks in.
“Remy, no costume?” Scott Picton, my regular, comments when I get him and his friends their beer. “You could throw those curves in anything and make some extra money on the side.” Scott runs a hand across his much too small chin and raises an eyebrow.
“You’re disgusting.” I look him in the eye and gesture at the table full of guys in tattered clothing and cheap makeup. “And zombies are overrated, sweetie.”
They take their turn ordering, throwing a few casual remarks about Scott’s disastrous flirting.
“Number eight, no mustard.” Scott says and asks me what I’m doing after my shift.
“Nothing with you.” I respond sweetly. His friends make a commotion as I take their menus.
“One of those days I’ll get that sweet caramel skin in my bed sheets.” Scott says.
“Bet it tastes like burnt sugar, huh?” Another one of the guys makes a grab for my hips and I sway from his touch. I saunter back to put their order in.
“Don’t know how you do it.” Charlie says as he gets a platter ready of cocktails and shots. “Every day these assholes eat you up with their eyes. Even after watching you reject all of them they just keep coming back for more.”
“College ain’t going to pay for itself, Charlie.” I take the platter on one hand and deliver it to my next table full of even more drunk guys competing for my attention. Half the time their eyes are concentrated on my breasts and the deep cleavage my tight satin shirt reveals, and the rest of the time I catch them fixated on my behind as I walk away.
A year and two months ago, when I first changed into my uniform for the first time, I had been conscious of it being too tight and constricting these bigger curves, not too mention taming my corkscrew curls that I’ve wasted thousands of dollars of product learning how to manage. Amazingly, throwing my hair into a bun on the top of my head and wearing tight clothes got me not only unwanted attention, but some very wanted cash tips.
The last hour of my shift flies by and I introduce my tables to Camila. They’re notably disappointed when her tiny frame and thick spanish accent offers to refill their drinks, but as the clock on the wall behind the bar chimes in a new hour I only care about the tip she’ll end up splitting with me.
My apron comes off and I grab my purse, waving goodbye and leaving before someone inevitably calls my name. Camila had asked about my Halloween plans and why I’m in such a hurry to leave and as Scott made a fuss about his burger I managed to slip away unnoticed. I couldn’t tell her I had plans, she would call me out on that lie in an instant, but I didn’t feel like telling her the truth. Tonight is the first night I’ve had off in a month, and I have a hot date waiting for me in my tiny studio apartment. Boxed wine, pajamas, and the newest release of my favorite romance novelist.
I walk up the busy road that Kennedy’s is on, ignoring cat calls and avoiding running into groups of costumed characters migrating to their next party. I’m across the street from the subway station when my phone rings.
I consider waiting until I’m home to even look at it, but my dad has been overseas for business for a while and I haven’t talked to him in over a week. I step into a quieter alleyway and unlock my phone, groaning when my boss’s name flickers across the screen.
“David.” I answer. “If Scott complained about Camila tell him I have a life and can’t be there to pleas
e him twenty four seven.”
“What? No, Remy, Scott just left. I need you to come back for a double though.” There’s shouting in the background and David yells at the kitchen to be quiet.
“A double? I just worked an 8 to 7, some people might consider that a double.” I argue.
“I just got off the phone with one of the Kennedy’s. They’re in town for the next few weeks scoping out a new building. You’re the best front of house we got, I need you here until close today while I clean the office.”
The light to cross the street turns green, and I shuffle on my feet and envision myself lounging on the couch in pajamas with the boxed wine at my feet. But then the bills on the nearby dining table come into focus and I remember how much tuition for the semester I still owe and turn back down the street towards Kennedy’s.
“Pay and a half?” I ask.
“Pay and a half.” David confirms.
We hang up and I drag myself back to work, cursing these spoiled ass rich owners and praying we never cross paths.
Chapter Two
Camila warned me the entitled drunks are feeling even more bold tonight behind masks, but I didn’t believe her until dealing with it myself. She keeps my tables as I’m the evening’s Host, but I help out where I can in between greeting customers. They’re loud and obnoxious as they whistle for my attention and ask how naughty I’ve been lately, but I brush their remarks off with ease.
The next hours pass by smoothly with twenty and thirty percent tips left for all of the waitresses. Charlie kicks men out when they’re too raunchy with us and our other coworker Sophie, and we all take turns passing candy out between us and the cooks.
Charlie closes up the bar and leaves, already complaining about having to come in earlier than usual the next day. The late night crowd eases up until we have only two tables still eating, and the cooks all begin to clean their stations.