The Executive's Surprise Baby

by Catherine Mann

  Sure, a union between them made good business sense. But he also couldn’t miss that the more time he spent with Brooke, the less he thought about corporations. The apartment dates, with just the two of them, had given him far more insight about her than twice as many outings in a distracting public crowd could have.

  Pointedly, he held her gaze until finally she looked down and away, striding toward the kitchen in an obvious move to avoid him. “We don’t have much reason to trust each other, do we?”

  He watched her walk, the gentle sway of her hips beneath the dark clingy fabric, the hint of bare calf at the slit of her hem. His mind mentally traveled up that patch of skin to silky thigh.

  “I guess not.” Following her, he lounged in the archway linking the kitchen to the dining area, trying to hang on to the conversation long enough to address her fears about him. “How do we get past that?”

  “More dating?” She pulled out a large bottled water from the refrigerator and filled two crystal glasses. “Time.”

  “Exactly.” He’d solidified his point about dating. Apparently he’d done well enough in hiding his own restlessness. And since he didn’t want to let on that his thoughts kept straying to her possible choice of lingerie tonight, he distracted himself with figuring out what it was about this place and her mother’s home that bugged him.

  He took the glasses from her, returned to the living room and set their drinks on the coffee table. “How about we start small tonight?”

  “What do you mean?” She eyed him suspiciously.

  “Let’s sit.” He would make her more comfortable by connecting with her the best way he knew how. Their words might do battle, but the heat between them had always been in perfect harmony.

  Warily, she perched on the edge of the overstuffed white sofa. “Okay? What now?”

  “Do you trust me with your feet?”

  “That’s a strange question.”

  Kneeling in front of her, he pulled off her shoes and tossed the high heels under the coffee table. He sat on the sofa and swung her legs onto his lap, gripping her feet in his hands. He kept his eyes off the way her hem hitched higher, knowing he’d never survive this if he continued torturing himself with thoughts of undressing her. Instead, his thumbs worked a gentle massage along the arch of her instep.

  “Ahhh…” Her head slumped sideways to rest against the couch. “Uhmmm, okay…”

  The sweet hum of approval in her throat would have encouraged any man, and he looked forward to hearing her make that same sound when he touched her in many, many more places. “I take that as consent to continue.”

  “A definite yes.” She reached behind her and cleared away half of the pink throw pillows so she could settle into the crook of the sofa.

  Her shoulder shifted, sending her full breasts in a tantalizing shimmy of movement while she made herself more comfortable. His mouth went dry, and he reached for his water. He’d been with too many women to count, and none had this powerful effect on him.

  After he replaced his half-empty water glass on the coffee table, he pressed his thumbs back into the graceful arch of her right foot and decided to see if he could tease a smile back to her face. “Since you’re in a yes mood, how about you marry me?”

  She didn’t so much as flinch, much less open her eyes. “Don’t push your luck.”

  “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

  Sure enough, the corners of her mouth twitched with a grin as she relaxed deeper into the cushions, hugging one of those froufrou pink pillows.

  The business world hadn’t labeled him persistent without cause. He would win her over. He was patient as well as persistent, a combination for success.

  Never had the stakes been so high, and not just on the business front. He refused to let his child be born without his name. From a young age, he’d known too well how vulnerable a young kid could be without a father.

  He’d been told how Emilio’s biological father had abandoned his responsibilities. When Emilio’s mother had died, Emilio would have become a ward of the state if Jordan’s parents hadn’t adopted their nanny’s orphaned son.

  Jordan refused to be like the man who’d left an innocent kid alone and helpless. Sure Brooke had plenty of family, but never would he let his child wonder why his own father hadn’t cared enough to be there.

  His hands gripped tighter around Brooke’s feet as if he could somehow will her to stay with him. “You’re just as sexy in sandals as you are in heels.”

  She opened one eye to peek at him. “Are you jumping on my mother’s bandwagon and telling me I have fat feet?”

  He would rather guide conversations away from that drunken bat. “You have beautiful feet, with pretty red toenails. I just want to know why you won’t pamper yourself. Take it easy during your pregnancy.”

  “I’m letting you pamper me right now. Don’t ruin it by grouching at me.” The hint of a pout on her lips gave him an almost irresistible urge to mold her mouth against his for a taste.

  “Fair enough.” He let his hands glide up to her ankles, his touch growing lighter.

  When she didn’t object, he inched his way higher to her calves, more of a stroke now than a massage against her bare flesh. Her honey-toned skin still carried a light tan left over from the summer.

  Her chest rose and fell evenly. Had she fallen asleep? He skimmed his fingers to the back of her knees, a place he remembered well as being an erogenous zone. Her breathing hitched, then increased.

  Oh, yeah. Her eyes might be closed but she was totally awake and not stopping him.

  He could continue farther up her dress, likely without protest from her. But he’d better not take the risk now. He’d won time with her. He needed to use it wisely.

  Jordan inched his hands from beneath the hem of her dress.

  Her lashes fluttered open, and her arms lifted.

  Hell, yeah. He couldn’t stop the smile from sneaking over his face, and she grinned back. So he waited for her to make the next move.

  Her arms hooked around his neck as her mouth parted to greet his with a sigh of acceptance. He wanted to touch all of her, but restraint seemed to be working more in his favor. He planted his hands on either side of her on the couch, careful to keep his full weight off her. As much as he ached for closer contact, he needed to be careful of the growing swell of her stomach. Why couldn’t she see that he simply wanted to take care of her and the baby?

  He let the kiss play out, glad to connect with her on a level where they communicated so well. Angling to rest his weight on one elbow, he allowed his other hand free rein to roam along her side, upward to cup the fullness that had been tempting him all evening long. The near-immediate beading of her nipple through the fabric followed by that sweet hum of pleasure he’d been hoping to hear encouraged him.

  Her slight wriggle against his thigh urged him to keep right on pursuing this path. But the more logical strategist in him knew better.

  Damn.

  Reason insisted if he took the easy way out for the sex he wanted so badly, he might never understand her reasons for resisting an engagement. Without that information, he would ultimately lose. He had one window of time to finalize this deal, and no amount of killer kisses or soft sighs of approval could sway him from closing the most important transaction of his life.

  Jordan eased back with a final sweep of his tongue, a last nip on her bottom lip. “Not that I’m complaining, but what’s going on here? I was expecting to work my ass off for a simple quick kiss.”

  She traced a fingernail along the back of his neck. “You said my swollen feet are pretty.”

  Women were more complicated than any boardroom negotiation he’d ever undergone. “Your feet are perfect, and if they’re swollen, it’s half my fault since it takes two to make a baby.”

  She’d mentioned the comment her mother made. Could a drunk mother’s ridiculous throwaway comment bother such a successful, confident woman?

  Of course it could. And what a strange time to
notice there were no photos of her parents in the condo that he could see. In fact, the walls and mantle bore just watercolor artwork. The only photo he could find…a small photo in a silver frame on the end table. He scooped it up to find five young Garrisons on the beach, Brooke and Brittany not more than five or six. His thumb gravitated to the image of Brooke, no questioning which was her with that sneaky strand of hair sliding from her ponytail.

  Brooke raked her fingernail from the back of his neck around to trail along his sore jaw. “I’m sorry my brother hit you.”

  “I’m not.” He smiled in spite of himself and replaced the photo on the end table. “That was the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “It’s a man thing. I expected it.” He shrugged off the fight and stifled a wince at his wrenched shoulder as he sat up again. He tugged Brooke to sit in the crook of his arm. “Since we’ve told the family, what do you say tomorrow we go out to dinner on our own? I’ll pick you up after work.”

  “Why don’t we meet here at my place instead?” She plucked at the hem of her loose-fitting black dress. “Or we can meet at yours and dine on the balcony again.”

  He frowned. “You don’t want to go out with me.”

  “It’s not that.” She kept picking at the fabric, her fingers pinching a loose thread with unwavering attention. “I’m just not ready for things to be so…public.”

  Jordan walled off his impatience. He was starting to learn that while this Garrison had a reputation for being less confrontational than the rest, she was still every bit as stubborn in her own way. “What sort of timetable do you have for telling the rest of the world this is my baby?”

  “I’ll know when it’s right.” She finally snapped the stray thread on her dress and pulled a tight smile.

  He could already see how much the thought of making this decision was torturing her. Informing her family had taken her months. Taking him to dinner had left her pale, her hands clammy and her feet puffy.

  How much more stress would it bring her figuring out how to tell her workmates and the rest of South Beach about their relationship? Without a doubt, gossip would flow. Things had only begun to die down from Emilio and Brittany hooking up. And while Emilio as a partner in Jefferies Brothers had his own issues with Garrison, Incorporated, the animosity between Jordan and Parker went off the charts.

  Brooke had to know the baby’s paternity would be grist for a hungry rumor mill.

  He studied the dark circles under her eyes and made an executive decision. The sooner everyone knew about their romance, the better. And by everyone, he meant all of South Beach in one fell swoop.

  Jordan tipped a knuckle under Brooke’s chin and brushed a final kiss across her lips. “All right, then, as you said, when the time is right, the world will know.”

  The next morning, Brooke raced past her personal assistant at the condominium development with a smile and a wave, late, thanks to her restless dreams about Jordan. The massage had tweaked her every last hot button, convincing her that having Jordan in her bed again would be a very delicious idea. But he’d pulled back when she’d been wanting, forcing her to think about their future and not just her keen hunger for him.

  Her waking thoughts were equally as agitating as she recalled his kiss…and the way his thumb had gone straight to her image in the photo. He’d known the difference between her and her twin even as children. God, that rocked her.

  She only half registered her assistant’s call of, “You have a visitor,” before Brooke threw wide the door to her office to find—

  Her mirror image.

  Well, her mirror image without a baby bulge since her twin wasn’t five months pregnant. “Good morning, Britt. If you wanted the scoop about Jordan, we could have done lunch today and talked about your wedding plans at the same time.”

  In spite of being twins, they hadn’t always been as close as Brooke would have wished. Brittany had often complained that everyone treated her like a child. However, since Brittany’s engagement to Emilio, she’d become closer to her family.

  Brittany leaned forward, gripping the portfolio briefcase on her lap tightly. “Are you all right?”

  Brooke sank into a chair across from her sister rather than sitting behind the desk. “Yesterday’s showdown with the family wasn’t fun by any means, but at least that hurdle is passed. Mother reacted pretty much as expected, and both men walked away without broken bones.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  Brittany eased back in her chair, her eyes sympathetic. “You didn’t read local newspapers over breakfast this morning.”

  The papers? A bad feeling shivered up her spine. “I overslept. I grabbed a bagel on my way out the door.” A bagel the baby suddenly seemed determined to kick repeatedly. “Why?”

  Her twin opened the monogrammed portfolio bag and pulled out a newspaper—the South Beach Journal.

  Brittany flipped the paper open. “You’re the lead feature in the social section. Or rather, I should say, that you and Jordan are big news.”

  Brooke’s stomach settled with a dull thud, followed by a roaring denial in her head. Blinking fast, she wiggled her fingers for the paper and sure enough, the lead story plastered a photo of her beside a photo of Jordan.

  The paper shook in her hand. “How many more?”

  “Three that I’ve seen, and, of course, it’s on the Internet.” Brittany twisted her princess-cut yellow diamond engagement ring around and around her finger. “I hear big cash offers are already starting to roll in for the first photo of the two of you together.”

  “Great.” Brooke slammed the paper closed. “That makes me feel much better.”

  “You could pose and donate the proceeds to charity.”

  “Don’t make light of this, please. This is my life. My baby’s life.” She blinked back tears of frustration. “This explains why Parker has been trying to reach me all morning. I thought he wanted to badger me about Jordan, so I ignored the messages from his receptionist, Sheila, uh…” Brooke pressed her fingers to her aching temple, the woman’s full name escaping her.

  “McKay.” Brittany finished her twin’s sentence. “Sheila McKay.”

  “Yeah, right. Although learning the reason for the calls from his receptionist doesn’t make me any more inclined to answer.” She glanced down at the paper again. “I wonder if Jordan knows yet. Damn. What am I saying? Of course he knows. Mr. Perfect would never oversleep and miss checking the news.”

  “Emilio has already gone to see Jordan and make sure his head doesn’t explode over this.”

  Brooke swiped away a lone tear. She hated feeling so out of control of her life, a by-product of growing up with an alcoholic mother, no doubt. She could only imagine how someone as strong-willed as Jordan would react to having his life scooped this way. “I wonder which of Mother’s staff sold the story.”

  “It could be anyone. We have so many people in and out of there making deliveries with my wedding less than three weeks away.”

  “I’m sorry to add stress during what should be a happy time.”

  “Shush. It doesn’t have to be all about me. As a matter of fact, it feels good to be able to offer support for a change instead of always being the one needing it.”

  “Thank you for being here. It’s going to be tough winning over the brothers. And I don’t even want to think about Mother.” Brooke shuddered.

  “Of course, I’m here. I owe you, anyway. Remember when the news rag got the pictures of me making out with the chauffeur and you told Mother and Dad it was you? Since you never got in trouble, they let you off with a slap on the wrist. Me, I would have lost my car.”

  Brooke welcomed the laughter to replace welling tears. “The shock on the chauffeur’s face was priceless.”

  “No kidding. If he couldn’t tell us apart, then he didn’t deserve to have me.”

  “Damn straight.” Brooke’s mind skipped back five months to the night she and Jorda
n made the baby, when he’d most definitely known one twin from the other. Still…“Everything is just changing too fast for me.”

  Brittany squeezed Brooke’s hand. “Once Emilio and I are married, they’ll be that much closer to realizing they have to accept all the Jefferies into the Garrison family. Maybe there will even come a time when Garrison, Incorporated can merge with Jefferies Brothers.”

  “Perhaps.” Brooke forced a tight smile although she really wanted to scream. Even her own sister saw this relationship in terms of a business negotiation.

  Still, Brooke wasn’t so certain things would be settled with her family that easily.

  By the end of the week, Jordan wondered why he hadn’t managed to settle this wedding issue yet. He tried to take comfort in the relationship being public now. A Friday night dinner at a back table in his brother’s restaurant counted as progress.

  She hadn’t been happy about the newspaper articles, but as he’d hoped when he’d had his secretary leak the story, Brooke had quit worrying about secrecy. They’d begun dating openly in earnest.

  He had to admit, he’d enjoyed the hell out of the past week although he should be focusing on the upcoming opening of his Hotel Victoria. He had a stack of work and telephone messages sitting by his computer right now—although at least he could ignore the five messages from his ex. Damn, she was persistent. When she’d called out of the blue yesterday, he’d told her he was seeing someone else now. If she wouldn’t listen to words, distance seemed the best option. His secretary would have to tell her he wasn’t available.

  Jordan put his ex-lover out of his mind, into his past, and realized he didn’t feel the least regret. He had his mind and intentions firmly set elsewhere, something others began noticing, as well. Emilio had even caught him watching the clock during a late-day board meeting.

  Of course, he didn’t bother masking his attraction to her. While romancing Brooke every night this week, he’d also worked to win her over by easing tension with her family.