The Boss’s Secret Baby

by Charlize Starr

  Amanda and I wheel around, our expressions of surprise identical. Ethan has pushed the door open.

  “Ethan! This is the ladies room, for goodness sake,” Amanda scolds.

  It’s too late. I can tell by the look on his face that he heard Amanda. He’s staring at me with a mixture of disbelief and hurt. “Is it true, Lindsay? Is Casey mine?”

  I can’t look him in the eyes. “She’s yours. I’m sorry, Ethan. I should have told you, but-”

  “Save it, Lindsay. This isn’t the time or the place to have this conversation.” His jaw is clenched, and his shoulders are stiff with tension as if he’s making great effort to hold on to his temper. “Amanda, your guests are waiting.”

  “Well, they might as well go home. There will be no wedding tomorrow,” Amanda grumbles. She turns to me, sympathy on her face. “I don’t hate you, Lindsay. I’m pissed as hell, but I’ll get over it. I’m going to go out there and fix my problem, and you fix yours. We’ll swap stories tomorrow over strong drinks.”

  I grab her hand and give it a squeeze, grateful for forgiveness from at least one person. “Thanks. Good luck.”

  “You too.” She leaves the bathroom, leaving me to face Ethan’s wrath alone.

  He glares at me. “I don’t know what that was all about, but if the wedding has been called off, I guess there’s no need for this dinner. Let’s go.”

  “W-where?”

  “I drove you here, so I’m taking you home.” He turns and leaves without waiting for a response. My shoulders droop with defeat. Great, he’s going to drop me home and drive off as soon as I step out of the car. He hates me, and I can’t blame him. I follow him, dragging my feet, feeling like I’m on my way to the gallows.

  ***

  Ethan parks in front of my building. He still hasn’t said a word to me. I suffered through what must have been the most uncomfortable drive in history. I would feel better if he had said something to me, anything, even words of anger. But all I have gotten is silence, torturing silence. “Ethan-”

  “Let’s go inside.”

  I sigh. Finally, he speaks. “Will it be safe to be alone in my apartment with you?” I ask sarcastically.

  I’m given a withering glare. “You really shouldn’t be a smart ass right now, Lindsay.”

  Pulling my lower lip between my teeth, I slide out of the car and march up the steps with Ethan on my tail. I can practically feel his anger. Once we are inside, and he has closed the door, I turn to look at him. My heart twists, seeing his pained expression. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out something, throwing it down on the center table. I stare at the small box with confusion.

  “Why, Lindsay? Why would you keep the fact that you have a child from me for three years?”

  I take my eyes off the box. “I didn’t want to hold you back, Ethan. You had just been drafted to the NFL. It was your dream. I just wanted you to have a future. If I had told you about Casey, you would have hated me.”

  Ethan runs a hand over his face. “Are you listening to yourself? Why would I hate you because of our child?”

  I shrug. Now that he says it, I feel like a complete fool for keeping something so big from him. My lower lip quivers as I fight back tears. “I didn’t want to ruin your life, burden you with the responsibility of a child. I thought at least one of us should live our dream.”

  “You should have told me. We could have made things work.” He falls silent. “I have a daughter,” he whispers. It’s as if he still can’t believe it.

  “I suppose all I have managed to do is make everything worse by keeping such a secret. I kept it from everyone. My mother suspects, but she doesn’t say anything. She looks like you.” He looks at me with sad eyes. My conscience berates me for hurting him this way. Because of my stupidity, he missed out on three years of his child’s life. “I’ll understand if you never want to speak to me again.”

  “I was going to ask you to marry me.”

  My eyes widen. “What?” I eye the velvet box once more. “W-why?”

  He looks at me as if I’ve lost all sense. “Because I love you, Lindsay. I fell in love with you, okay? I think I did when you approached me at your graduation three years ago.” I’m gawking at him at this point. His lips twitch. “Yeah, I was just as surprised at the discovery too.”

  I blink rapidly. Ethan is in love with me? Well, hallelujah, because I love him too. “I love you, too. I always have.”

  Ethan gives me the full intensity of his stare. This time, there is nothing sexual about it. What I would give to know what he’s thinking right now. Is he condemning me? Planning to take me to court and sue for full custody of his child? My mind is racing, and I’m on the verge of panic. “Please don’t take her from me, Ethan. I’ve already given up so much in my life.”

  He frowns. “What are you talking about?”

  “If you’re contemplating taking Casey from me, please don’t. We’ll work something out. You can see her whenever you like.”

  He lets out a laugh, taking me by surprise. “Take her from you? I’m planning to take away the both of you.”

  Huh? “I- I don’t understand.”

  He moves toward me, and I instinctively take a retreating step back. “I have a family. I’m not leaving you or Casey. You’re both coming back to Texas with me.”

  My heart jumps excitedly, but I’m a bit apprehensive. “We can’t just uproot our lives, Ethan.”

  “What’s here for either of you, Lindsay? If you come with me, Casey will have everything she’ll ever want and need and so will you. You’ll be able to go to the best art school in the country if you wish. I’ll take care of both you. I’ll pay for your mother to visit anytime she wants.

  Wow. I honestly thought things would go much worse. He’s offering to take Casey and me with him. I didn’t see it coming. I’m starting to feel a little bit like Cinderella, and I hate that damn fairy tale. “Ethan, I don’t know what to say. This is all so-”

  “Just say yes. And say yes to marrying me.”

  “That’s not a very romantic proposal,” I murmur.

  Ethan swallows a grin. “Give me a break, here. I’m still in shock. I’ll wine and dine you later and pop the question again. How about that?”

  I can’t help but smile, elated that he still wants me in every way and incredibly relieved that I’ve been forgiven. “I don’t care about wining and dining. I’ll marry you.”

  He lets out a long breath. “Good. Let’s go get Casey now. I need to meet her. I don’t want to waste another minute.”

  “Of course. Let’s go.” I move toward the door, but Ethan snags my wrist, pulling me back.

  “You’re forgetting something.” He reaches for the box on the table and opens it, revealing an intricately designed ring with a solitary stone. It’s the biggest diamond I’ve ever seen. My breath hitches in my chest. This is really happening. My dreams are starting to become reality.

  “I love you, Lindsay. You have no idea how much you have changed me. You make me a better version of myself.”

  A face splitting smile spreads across my face. “You never needed any improvement. You’ve always been perfect in my eyes.”

  He swallows hard. “It’s dangerous for you to say things like that to me. Now I want to take you to the bedroom. But there will be plenty of time for that later. Let’s go get our little girl.”

  As we head through the door, I glance down at our intertwined hands. My time has finally come to be wholly happy.

  *****

  THE END

  Quarterback Daddy

  Description

  If I win, and I always win, I get an animalistic rush that can only be satiated by a woman’s body. And there she is, waiting to interview me.

  Erica

  I wasn’t attending the NFL game to see Kyle Murphy, like everyone else. I was there because I had a job to do. I had an interview to take, and I was willing to do anything to get it.

  Chiseled body, six-pack abs, permanent obnoxious smile.
He decided to undress in front of me, in the locker room. And then he invited me to watch him take a shower.

  And I was floored. All self-control was out of the window. He was going to have me, and I was willing to abandon all professional ethics for the sake of the interview I wanted.

  But then everyone found out. And I was left with a secret that not even he can find out.

  Kyle

  I get an adrenaline rush after I win a game. An instant, animalistic instinct that can only be satiated by a woman’s body.

  So I was lucky that Erica Lee, a fresh-faced young reporter was waiting for me after the game.

  But unlike all my other fans, she was a tough nut to crack.

  When I succeeded, it was like nothing else. I had to have her again. I wanted more.

  So when my manager said I needed a pretend girlfriend to clear my name, I knew exactly whom I wanted...

  Chapter One - Erica

  I have been chasing news stories for the past year. Nobody thought I could do it – a girl trying to make it big as a sports journalist? But I was determined to prove them all wrong, especially my dad, who always wanted a son but got me instead.

  So when I was called into my editor’s office the other day, you can imagine how on edge I was. The worst thing that could happen was my being demoted to write fluff human interest stories without a byline. The best thing that could happen was that I got to cover the next NFL game.

  What ended up happening was that my editor gave me an assignment that was so good that I hadn’t even dreamt of it. Kyle Murphy. I was supposed to interview Kyle Murphy.

  Before anything else, I should let you in on who Kyle Murphy is. As you can predict, he is an NFL superstar. Why else would I even be interested? He was being touted as the next big thing. He might have been only twenty-four years old, but he wasn’t green to the game. He had been picked up, touted at the tender age of eighteen and he had been making a splash ever since. Teams had fought over him, and he obviously took up the most pricy offer. Because that is who Kyle Murphy was.

  I hadn’t ever met him in person, but I had formed a pretty accurate impression of him. I had interviewed and hung around enough footballers to know exactly how much the fame got to their heads. But with Kyle Murphy, it was a completely different level.

  The guy looked like a Greek God, for starters. His body was pure muscle. It was hard to miss the layers of chiseled and well-sculpted sinew under his jersey while he played. His face was sharp, his jaw square, his eyes a piercing emerald green, and his lips flawlessly pink and juicy. His hair was dark, and he kept it short in a buzz cut so that it never interfered with his game.

  So, Kyle Murphy’s stardom wasn’t all just about his prowess on the field. It was also about how irresistibly gorgeous he looked. This contributed to all the media attention he got. He was never seen without a beautiful model or film star hanging from his arm and he always left them heartbroken. Kyle Murphy was known as a serial non-committer and I could never understand why these women kept trying. It was like they couldn’t help themselves.

  Men wanted to be like him and women wanted to tame him. That was the legend of Kyle Murphy. I had always watched from the sidelines, interested in his success story. Never before did I have the opportunity to actually meet him in person, interview him. He was larger than life – too high profile for me to actually meet. But, finally, here I was. For some reason my editor had thought I was ready to report on him and I was sure not going to mess it up.

  So, during the game I stood in the middle of the hallway near the locker room. I could watch on the large screen TV that had been fixed at the entrance, so I wasn’t really missing out on the action. My plan was to intercept him on his way back to the locker room after the game. Kyle Murphy was notorious for not keeping his word with reporters for interviews. He could very well change his mind. Then what was I supposed to do? Become a failure? I was determined to get this interview. It was my job and I was going to do it well.

  But the whole time I stood watching the game, my brain was split in half. I could see him on the screen, taking his team to victory. He moved swiftly on the field, the cameras always remained focused on him. Even with his helmet on, even when he was being tackled, Kyle Murphy had an obnoxious smile on his face. The cameras captured the sparkle in his eye, the way his body cut through the wind as he ran.

  I was watching him. That is to say, I was watching the team win. I couldn’t help but think about my dad and the look of sheer surprise he would have on his face when my interview was printed the next morning. He’d see my name, my official mugshot at the top above the article and the realization would sink in: his daughter had interviewed Kyle Murphy, the model son he wished he had. He would be in disbelief for the first few minutes that it was actually his daughter, and then he might regret all the words he had thrown at me. He might regret the passive aggressiveness he had tortured my mother with, blaming her for not presenting him with a son, for not being able to have any more children after me.

  Kyle Murphy represented more than just a lucky break for me. He was going to give me the opportunity to prove to my dad that I was capable of anything. That even though I was a girl, I was way closer to the NFL than any son of his might have ever gotten.

  The game had come to an end, and I could see Kyle Murphy on the screen being lauded by the crowd. Some of his teammates had lifted him up on their shoulders. He had yanked the helmet off his face, smiling and laughing for the camera. Kyle Murphy was celebrating and I was silently celebrating too, hoping that he wouldn’t forget that he had an interview to give.

  Chapter Two - Kyle

  That fresh after-victory feeling overcame me when I walked off the field and back towards the locker room. I have to admit – it was the biggest thrill. It was why I played the game, why I trained every day of the week, every week of the month. I pushed my body to the limit, I worked hard to stay fit and on top of the game, to be the best… because I love to win.

  To hear the crowd cheer was a high, an adrenaline rush, and a reminder of all the good things in my life. Most importantly, a reminder of all the panties that were going to drop tonight. A game always charged me up for a good fuck. I needed to feel the smooth flesh of the inside of a woman’s thigh immediately after a game.

  If I won, and I always won, it immediately turned me on. I don’t know how to describe it other than that it was an instant, animalistic instinct to fuck.

  We had won again, my teammates thumping my back as we walked back towards the locker room. I was already scanning the cheering crowd, eyeing the people who had gathered at the entryway.

  I noticed the handful of women, fans who were screaming my name. Tight asses, delicious cleavage, flowing hair, big eyes, smooth necks. Those were the first things I noticed. I was like a wolf on the prowl. I knew I could have any of them – all I had to do was give them a look.

  I smiled at a few of them, and I could see it in their eyes as I passed by. They were desperate for me. I had read the papers this morning: a recent poll had revealed that I was named as “The Sexiest Man in America”. It had made me laugh that morning. Now, after the game was over, after we had run and the adrenaline was pumping through my veins, I wanted a prize. An actual prize.

  One of the girls who was screaming my name, whose palm I lightly grazed before walking away, had licked her lips when our eyes met. She wanted me. I could imagine her panties getting wet. She was going to tell all her friends that I had looked at her. It made me smile. Maybe there was some way I could get her into the locker room, into my shower, bend her over and get it over with. That was the only way I could relax, the only way I could calm my nerves and enjoy the rest of the celebration with my teammates. I needed to fuck.

  Then I walked into the hallway, my teammates flanking me on either side. We were like an entourage, a convoy of the most eligible bachelors in the country, who had just won another game.

  But my focus had shifted already. I had seen her standing at the entrance o
f the locker room, and I decided almost instantly that she was going to be my catch for the night. She would do.

  She could have been a reporter, or a lawyer, or an architect. The bottom line was she looked nothing like my usual screaming fans. This girl had straight glossy blonde hair that was neatly parted on the side, it was cut sharply at her shoulders. She immediately looked low maintenance, like she had barely spent any time doing her hair. She was wearing a pair of black tailored trousers and I instantly thought, “Who wears trousers to an NFL game?”

  A white shirt was tucked in at the waist, and that waist was small, and the buttons on her shirt were slightly parted to accommodate for those big juicy breasts. A lanyard hung around her neck, and that was when I made up my mind. I knew she was a reporter even before she stuck her hand out in front of me.

  “Kyle Murphy.” She said my name like she was informing me of it - like I might have been clueless of my name before she instructed me. I looked into her eyes. They were large, blue eyes, yet focused – like she was on a mission. She was serious about what she was about to say.

  I hadn’t slowed my pace (neither had those around me) and she walked beside us, keeping her hand stuck out towards me.

  “I’m Erica Lee from The Statesman,” she continued. This time I smirked at her. But unlike all my other fans, she was a tough nut to crack. I still hadn’t seen her smile or blush.

  “Hello, Erica Lee,” I said and decided to shake her hand. Physical contact might get the ball rolling. Our hands met and I was instantly aware of how small and slender her hand was in mine, but I shook it nonetheless with a strong jerk. I was almost afraid that I had broken her arm.

  But she looked unaffected.

  “I have an interview with you. Your manager confirmed it with us this morning,” she continued, and I raised my eyebrow. Honestly, I couldn’t remember. I didn’t pay attention to half of the things that Lewis said to me, and especially not on game day! But the very fact that she was here, so close to our locker room, meant that she had been given access. It was obvious that Lewis had allowed her to try to get an interview with me.