His Brother's Baby (Bad Boy Ballers)

by Imani King

  I pause, staring up at him. “Of course not. I’m only ashamed of the image those media people are trying to give me. They twisted everything, Jackson.”

  He nods and hugs her. “That’s their job. Most people realize that. We’ll get fifteen minutes before the world moves on.”

  I place my head against his chest, aching to make a confession. I want to pour out my fears to him, but am afraid how he will react. If he sends me away, I won’t know what to do. I don’t think I could live without my daughter, or Jackson and Lillian. I need them. I need him.

  I lift my head and look into his eyes. “Do you still want to marry me?”

  He arches his brow. “We don’t need to get married to justify our relationship.”

  “I know. It isn’t about that.”

  Jackson appears unconvinced. “Do you want to get married?”

  I nod. “Yes.”

  He steps back and crosses his arms over his chest. “Why?”

  I bite my lip, wondering how honest I should be. “I want it all.”

  He looks confused. “I’m sorry?”

  “I want what I’ve seen these last few days.” I look down. “I want to be part of your family. I want to be here next year, and the next, and the year after that.” I sigh. “I want to be Tamara’s mother.”

  He blinks and opens his mouth. Then he closes it with a snap, like he is debating with himself. “This is sudden, isn’t it? You seemed repulsed when I proposed.”

  “I was frightened, not repulsed.” I shrug. “The story will lose momentum if we show we aren’t having an affair.” I want the story to die as quickly as possible. More than that, I want to ensure Jackson won’t be able to arbitrarily send her away if he discovers the truth. I ignore the twinge of conscience that tells me it is wrong to marry him with a lie between them. “It will be expedient.”

  His laugh sounds cold. “Pardon my lack of enthusiasm, but I never thought I’d get married because it was expedient.”

  I see the genuine hurt in his eyes and step forward to wrap my arms around his waist. “That’s not the only reason. I do want to marry you.”

  “So you can have Tamara.” He sounds bitter.

  I bite my lip again. “I can’t deny that she is part of my reason for accepting, but...”

  “What?” he prompts after a long silence.

  “I don’t know what kind of wife I’ll be, but I promise I’ll do my best to make you happy.” I frame his face in my hands. “You’re the only man I could imagine taking such a risk for.”

  He sags a little, but his expression remains distant. “Do you love me, Shawna?”

  I hesitate, and then ask, “Do you love me?”

  Jackson nods, looking as if the admission hurt. “You must know I do. That’s the only reason I would ever marry you. I want to know you feel the same way.”

  For some reason, I can’t bring myself to say the words. It is the ultimate surrender, and I’m not ready to lay myself completely bare before him. “I—” I swallow. “I don’t know how I feel. I think I...”

  He stares at me for a long time without speaking. His face reflects his pain. Slowly, his expression changes to acceptance. “That’s all you can give me, isn’t it?”

  I honestly try to say the words, but they refuse to come. Finally, Shawna said, “For now. Is it enough?”

  Jackson exhales a ragged breath. “I guess it’ll have to be.”

  “Then you’ll marry me?”

  He nods.

  My head is on his chest again. “We can go to Vegas.”

  Jackson pushes me away to look into my eyes. “No. This is the only wedding I’ll ever have. I don’t intend to sneak around to accomplish it. We’ll be married right here.” His posture and expression clearly relay he won’t budge on this decision.

  “On the ranch?” I frown.

  “That’s how I always imagined it.”

  Despite my serious thoughts, I find myself smiling at the thought of him imagining his wedding. I thought only young girls did such things. “Have you given it a lot of thought?”

  He blushes at my teasing tone. “My grandfather and grandmother were married in the parlor. I want to continue the tradition.”

  “What about your parents?”

  His mouth tightens. “They eloped when Mom got pregnant. Dad rarely came near the ranch anyway, so they wouldn’t have gotten married here. Mom loved it though, so he gave it to her in the divorce settlement.” Jackson rolls his eyes. “He still wanted to take care of her.”

  “Your father was an old-fashioned guy, huh?” I ask sarcastically. His father had left Lillian to marry Brad’s mother when she “accidentally” got pregnant.

  He shrugs. “Do you mind if we get married here?”

  I shake my head. “Can we get married soon? I don’t want to wait.”

  He frowns. “What’s the rush?”

  “Please, Jackson.”

  He sighs. “It will have to be after the holidays.”

  I bite my lip, trying to figure the timing. With Brad out of the country, it could be days or weeks—if ever—before he sees the article. Though that is rational, my instincts urge me to marry Jackson as quickly as we could arrange it. “How about after Christmas? I know your company shuts down, so we could go away for a honeymoon the week following.”

  He seems surprised. “You want a honeymoon?”

  I nod. Actually, I don’t care, but hope it would entice him to agree. I shudder to realize how manipulative I am being. I don’t want to be that kind of person, but I have no choice right now. “I want you all to myself for a few days.”

  Jackson sighs. “If it’s that important to you, we can pull it together in time.”

  “Thank you, darling.” The endearment feels rusty on her tongue. I snuggle closer to him and resist the urge to cry. I have just become engaged to the man I love. The moment should be pure happiness, without fear or scheming overshadowing it. I should look back and remember it with pleasure, rather than recall the dull ache in the pit of my stomach that tells me I’m cheating Jackson and myself.

  34

  Shawna

  The next two days are a mad rush around the Reeves household. Caterers and florists are in and out with food, flowers, and decorations. A rental company brings a stereo system and folding chairs for the entertaining parlor, along with two buffet tables that include heating and chilling compartments.

  Lillian is in her element. A sparkle appears in her eyes, and there is a spring in her step. She walks around the house with a militant air, issuing orders to everyone but Tamara. By Thursday night, the house is transformed into a winter wonderland.

  I wander through the rooms of the lower level, admiring the painstaking decorations lending the entire house the atmosphere of Christmas. Wreaths and holly hang on every door and across the walls. Garlands of greenery are twisted around the banister of the staircase, and twinkle lights are entwined through each spindle.

  Each doorway holds a sprig of mistletoe, and Jackson is taking horrible advantage. He often lurks under it, just waiting for me to come by so he can sweep me into his arms for a long kiss. His eyes still hold a hint of pain, but, except for traces of grimness, he is his usual self. His only concession to the existence of the media scandal is hiring a team of professional security agents to scour the property every hour. They have expelled two photographers in the past two days.

  When I go up to bed, I have a difficult time falling asleep, as I have for the last two nights. Since practically forcing Jackson into agreeing to a hasty marriage, I have nightly wrestled with my conscience. I agonize over my actions, knowing how hurt he will be if he finds out I am Tamara’s mother after we are married. He would think I had only married him to keep my baby. The more I think about it, the more I become convinced that I can’t marry him without telling him the truth. Yet, hiding the truth is my primary reason for marrying him. Isn’t it?

  I sigh and turn over, pounding her pillow into a ball. I try to clear my mind of heavy tho
ughts by focusing on tomorrow night’s festivities. Once all the guests arrive and eat, there will be a gift exchange done by drawn numbers. A few party games will precede a round of singing Christmas songs. The guests will finish the evening with dancing. Somewhere in that time frame, I know Jackson will announce our engagement and invite those in attendance to their afternoon wedding the following Tuesday.

  Friday afternoon, during a pause between crises, Jackson pulls me aside and into his study. As soon as he close the door, he draws me in his arms for a long kiss. His mouth is firm against mine, and his hands slip under the soft wool of the iced-cherry sweater to explore my flesh.

  I try to control my galloping heart as his hands slide across my skin. My lips are soft and pliant under his, and I can barely think straight. If not for him lifting his head, I can’t honestly say I would stop our interlude. I wrapped my arms around his waist and prop my chin against his chest to look up at him. I smile. “What was that for?”

  “I missed you.” He pulls me a bit closer and cups my buttocks through the khaki slacks. “A lot.”

  Heat suffuses my cheeks as I feel his erection pressing into my hip. “I can tell just how much,” I sat in a husky voice.

  Jackson continues to hold me for a moment before taking a step back. “I thought, since we’re going to tell everyone tonight...” He trails off and reaches into the pocket of his sinfully tight jeans, washed to a dull blue. He pulls out a small black box. “You should probably have this.” He opens the velvet box to show her the three-stone diamond ring.

  I gasp when I see the white-gold ring with three square-cut diamonds nestled side by side. I don’t know anything about jewelry or stones, but the diamonds are impossibly bright and sparkled in the light, which I think must be a good thing.

  At my silence, he frowns. “I liked the symbolism of the three stones, but if you want something else, we can exchange it after the holidays.”

  I continue to stare at the ring without speaking.

  “Shawna?”

  I burst into tears and bury my face in my hands.

  Jackson touches my shoulder. “Do you hate it? You don’t have to wear it even for tonight. We don’t need a ring to make the announcement.”

  I shake my head and take a deep breath, trying to speak. “I—” I swallow the tears down and clear my throat. “I love it. I’m just...I don’t deserve this, Jackson.”

  His posture grows less rigid when he laughs. “Don’t be ridiculous. You deserve the best of everything.”

  I shake my head. “No. You don’t—”

  He lifts my left hand and slides on the ring, ignoring my feeble attempts to draw away. “It’s a perfect fit. See? The ring was meant for you.”

  I gaze down at the ring on my hand, surprised at how comfortable it feels on my finger. As Jackson said, it does seem like the ring is meant for me, but I knew I couldn’t accept it with a lie hanging between them. I lick my lips. “I have to tell you something before—”

  The door opens, and Lillian pokes her head in. “There you two are. I need you in the kitchen, Shawna. Jackson, you need to help set up the chairs. Those men just left them in stacks against the wall.”

  Jackson sighs. “Sure thing, Mom.” He leans down to whisper in my ear. “You can tell me later tonight.”

  I reluctantly nod and follow him from the study. I stop long enough to show Lillian the ring and receive a tight hug.

  Even her joy in our engagement doesn’t deter Lillian from sending us off to do our duties. I glance back over my shoulder and lock eyes with Jackson. He gives me a smile and jaunty wave before disappearing into the entertaining parlor.

  It is early evening before Lillian deems all the last minute preparations are complete. I escape to my room to get ready for the party. After a long bath to relax my stiffening muscles, I dry off, and powder and perfume myself. I am a little unsure about how to use all the makeup in the kit I bought a few days ago, so I stick to the basics, choosing to emphasize my full lips with a bright red lipstick.

  I pull on the slip and pin up my hair before sliding on the dress. As a final step, I push my feet into white velvet pumps and stand before the mirror on the interior closet door. My mouth falls open when I see myself. I wish I had held off mailing Destiny’s package so I could have included a photo of myself looking as I do just now.

  I am very different from the ragamuffin foster child who’s been shuttled between so many homes. Even that little girl bore scant resemblance to her adult self who lives on the ranch. Yet tonight, the young woman who arrived at the ranch to take her baby away looks nothing like the sophisticated fashion plate standing in front of her mirror at this moment. I look elegant and refined. I spin around and giggle, suddenly my little girl self reappears, ruining my lady-like demeanor.

  Jackson will be proud to present me tonight to his friends and co-workers. No one will question his interest in the nanny, looking as she do.

  I find Lillian and Jackson in the sitting room. Tamara is sprawled on a blue and white snowflake blanket, trying to push herself up into a crawl. She cries with frustration when she fails to get going. My mouth drops open when Jackson lifts her. She wears a dress almost identical to mine.

  Jackson sees my teary expression and smiles. “Mom’s doing,” he says.

  I notice he has a white velvet tie with a red silk shirt under his dark suit. Lillian is wearing red velvet pants and a white and red blouse. “We all match?”

  Lillian nods. “It’s a statement, dear. We’re a family, and I’m going to make sure everyone in attendance realizes that.” She walks forward and slips her arm through mine. “Unlike that woman who’s causing all the trouble, you belong with us.”

  I am so overwhelmed by their show of support that I nearly dissolve into tears. Only the thought of trekking back up the stairs in three-inch heels to repair my eye shadow keeps them at bay.

  35

  Shawna

  I stand close to Jackson’s side, sipping a glass of champagne. Tamara snores softly on his shoulder. Within minutes of the first guests’ arrival, she has fallen asleep. Lindsay, a neighbor girl is set to be Tamara’s babysitter tonight, but Jackson hadn’t yet relinquished his niece. He seems determined to show her—and me—off to everyone in the parlor.

  I am pleasantly surprised by the reactions to our introductions. Jackson hasn’t made the formal announcement yet, but he introduces me as his fiancée to everyone. I’ve met friends, employees, and business associates, and none of them mentioned anything about the articles or the gossip circulating. Their congratulations seem sincere. I suspect Tamara’s presence goes a long way toward softening most of them and figure Jackson has knows that too.

  When Lillian rings a silver bell from her seat near the piano, one of the attendants shuts off the stereo. Lillian stands up and claps her hands together. Her voice echoes off the oak veneer walls and hardwood floor to reach each guest in the grand octagonal room. “Servers circulate among you now with baskets. Select a number for the gift exchange.”

  Jackson signals to Lindsay, and she hurries forward to collect Tamara. He tells her, “Make sure you come get us if there’s a problem.”

  Lindsay nods and whisks the baby away. I realize now that I will have to face all the guests on my own merits without Tamara’s charming presence. Then I turn to the server touching my sleeve and withdraw a red slip of paper with the number 44 handwritten on it. Jackson holds a similar slip in his hand.

  Within minutes, Lillian has coordinated the gift exchange. When I finally get to rip open the present, I am pleasantly surprised to find a silk scarf and brooch. My gift came from the Murphys, who couldn’t have guessed the recipient. I couldn’t imagine a gift I would like better. The maroon and emerald scarf accent my hair and eyes, and the white-gold brooch matches my new engagement ring.

  After everyone finished opening their gift, Jackson introduces me to the Murphys. “Jim, Celine, this is Shawna, my fiancée.” His eyes glow with pride as he put his hand on my back.
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  I hold out my hand and shake each of theirs. They both have friendly demeanors, without a hint of reproach. I surmise they have been Reeves friends before Anastasia’s arrival in Jackson’s life. “How do you do?”

  “Lovely dress,” Celine says. Her cheeks are flushed, and she seems a bit tipsy. “I can see why Jackson was lured away.” The pink in her cheeks turns a scorching scarlet. “Oh, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to imply—”

  I force a smile. “Please, don’t worry about it.” I clear my throat and show her the boxed set. “This is lovely. You couldn’t have chosen better if you had been shopping with me in mind.”

  My attempt to smooth over her gaffe works. on Although obviously embarrassed, Celine jumps in with the name of the store where she found the scarf and brooch set. She speaks in a rush, but gradually calmed down as minutes pass.

  When we move to meet the remaining guests, I have a warm impression of both Celine and Jim. Part of me is thrilled that Celine thought I was up to the challenge of stealing Jackson from his ex-girlfriend—not that I would admit that to anyone.

  Jackson chooses to make the announcement now, signaling to the servers to pass out champagne. When everyone has a flute, all eyes face forward, Jackson puts his arm around me and says, “My future wife.”

  The crowd claps and calls out congratulations. I incline my head, acting on instinct. I smile at everyone as Jackson gives the details of the ceremony and issues invitations. Then he lifts his glass, and the guests mirror him. Before I knw it, the news is out, and I am accepting congratulations, hugs, and kisses from people I have only just met. I feel all these friends of Jackson and Lillian have accepted me into his life without reservation.

  After a while, Lillian invites her guests to join in an elaborate Christmas game involving spelling words, acting out scenes, and quoting famous lines from holiday movies. From what I can tell, it seems to be a game of her own devising. The guests are relaxed and mellow by the time the stereo is turned back on again for dancing. This time, the music is a more eclectic selection of soft rock, ‘40s, and Christmas carols.