Quarterback Baby Daddy (A Secret Baby Sports Romance)

by Claire Adams

  The problem was, I didn't know what would happen if those deliveries went bad. There was too much potential for drones to crash or deliveries to be lost or damaged. I wasn't sure that Orinoco was prepared to absorb those risks.

  Hence, why I needed to talk to Albright's main insurance analyst.

  Jenny knocked lightly on the door and poked her head inside. “Mr. Goldwright, your three p.m. meeting is here,” she informed me.

  I waved my hand. “Send her in,” I said, shuffling my papers into order on my desk.

  The woman who entered my office was nothing like I would have expected. I didn't deal much with the insurance analysts that worked for Orinoco, but I had assumed they were all frumpy, older women who had gotten bored working in the finance department and decided to lone-wolf it in the insurance department.

  But this woman was young, maybe a few years younger than me, and she was far from frumpy. She wore a neat gray suit with a bright, silky purple shirt that emphasized her pale skin and dark hair. And those legs, wow. They went all the way up.

  I raised an eyebrow at her. “Ms. Jordan, or may I call you Lexi?” I asked.

  “Mr. Goldwright,” she said in response, her tone clipped and her gaze frosty. “Thank you so much for agreeing to see me today.”

  Ah, so she was upset about the change of time and change of venue, then. She had to realize that my time was more valuable than hers, though. Surely!

  I nodded towards a chair. “Can I get you something to drink? Water, or perhaps something stronger?” I placed my finger over the call button on my phone, ready to have Jenny bring whatever the woman wanted.

  But Lexi didn't sit down like I had expected her to. Instead, she narrowed her eyes at me. “Mr. Goldwright, I'm here on business,” she said, in that same holier-than-thou tone that she'd used before. “I have a presentation for you, and I'll need a projector screen for it. So, unless your office is hiding something that I'm not seeing, I suggest that we adjourn to your nearest conference room.”

  A pity: she had the frumpy attitude, even if she didn't have the looks to match it.

  I probably wasn't going to be able to convince her to have a quick fuck right there in my office, as much as I'd love to bend her over the nearest surface and have my way with her, but I wondered if I could get her into bed with me regardless.

  “I've read over most of the information you sent already,” I said, waving a careless hand. “I don't care much about your presentation, although I'm sure it's very informative. But I have some questions for you, and I'd like to hear you answer those rather than just read off slides for me.”

  At that, she looked uncertain, and I wondered what sort of company Albright was that she was so afraid to go off-script. It didn't really matter, though. Once we bought their company, we'd have the ability to change whatever we thought needed to be changed, up to and including the fundamental structure of the company.

  She shook her head, though. “Sorry, I thought I was going to be presenting to a group of Orinoco’s executives, or else I would have tailored the presentation to your specifics.” She sounded nervous and uncertain, and I couldn't help but laugh.

  I stood up and went over to the mini-bar in the corner of my office. Normally, the wine inside was reserved for close friends or celebrations, but just this once, I'd make an exception. “Here,” I said, handing her a glass of wine. “You sound like you could use this.”

  She sputtered, a faint blush staining her cheeks. “This is a work meeting!” she hissed.

  “Of course, it is,” I agreed. “But we're not going to get any work done if you're tripping over your tongue for the entirety of it.” I smiled at her, hoping to charm her into relaxing.

  She stared at me for another moment and then slowly reached out to accept the glass of wine. Equally cautiously, she folded herself into a seat.

  Normally, I'd take the seat behind my desk and play up my position of power. Today, I chose to sit next to her, dragging the second chair close enough that our knees were almost brushing when we leaned in to look at the paperwork that she'd brought over.

  “You were originally supposed to be meeting with some of my executives,” I told her offhandedly. “But this deal with Albright could launch both of our companies into the forefront of the industry, and I decided it was too important for me to pass it off on some of my lackeys.” I grinned over at her. “To be honest, I have a tendency to micromanage.”

  “Oh,” Lexi said, looking at a loss for words.

  “But there's a good reason for it,” I continued, boasting. “Under my leadership, I've taken Orinoco from being just a player in the online retail industry to being one of the forerunners in developing new technologies in said industry. Orinoco wasn't even a publicly-traded company before I came along, and now it's one of the most massive companies in the world.”

  “Right,” she said.

  She didn't sound impressed. In fact, if I had to gauge her, I'd say that she sounded disgusted. I suppressed a grin, wondering if she knew she was that easy to read. She probably thought I was arrogant, just another dim-witted dude whose dad had placed a bit too much trust in him. Or maybe she just wanted to go home. But what she said next surprised me.

  “Orinoco has had a string of good luck,” she agreed, nodding her head. “But no one can stay on top forever.”

  I stared at her for a long moment, watching as she fixed her challenging eyes on me and took a cool sip of her wine. Suddenly, I wondered who was judging whom here.

  I shook my head, feeling almost shaken, and turned towards the papers she had brought. “What I'm really concerned about, if I'm being honest, are drone crashes and liabilities,” I told her.

  “I figured as much,” Lexi said, nodding sagely. “We have reports on all of the issues that we've faced over the years. They should have been included in the documents that were sent over prior to this meeting.”

  “They were,” I told her. “But what I really want is some sort of projection on what Orinoco can expect if we are to put your technology to use with our company.”

  Lexi leaned back, studying me for a moment. “Well, that would depend on what exactly you were planning on using our technology for,” she said, a smile playing over her lips. “To be honest, you haven't really been clear on what you're hoping for. You know what we can do, but we have no idea what Orinoco's plan is for the next year or for the next five years.”

  I frowned at her. “Obviously, we're hoping to incorporate drone deliveries into what we already do,” I said.

  “Obviously,” Lexi said sardonically. “On all deliveries, though? On most deliveries? Until I know numbers, I'm afraid I can't really give you any sort of estimate on what you could expect this technology to cost your company.”

  “So, what you're saying is that you're unprepared for this meeting,” I said, deliberately pushing her. It wasn't really a business tactic at this point. I just wanted to see what would happen when she snapped.

  But instead of the rage that I was expecting, she just gave me a frosty look. “Perhaps if you hadn't waited until the last minute before changing everything to do with this meeting, I could have tailored it to better suit your needs,” she said. But that was the end of the cool confidence from her. In the next second, she was clapping a hand over her mouth and looking scared. “Sorry, I don't mean to be disrespectful. I'm just a bit nervous, that's all, and when I get nervous, I have a tendency to speak without thinking.”

  I smiled at her. “Why don't you make it up to me?” I asked, giving her an obvious once-over that I'm sure did nothing to hide my intentions. “Let me take you out to dinner tomorrow night. There's this beautiful place that just opened on the top floor of the Columbia Tower. I can call in a favor or two and get us a table, even on short notice like this.” The truth was, I already had a reservation, since the last time I hadn't had a date on a Friday night must have been at least five years ago. But she didn't need to know that.

  Her brow furrowed, and I thought for a m
oment that she was going to say no. But of course, she didn't. Instead, her protest was much more practical.

  “Mr. Goldwright, you do realize I'm just an insurance analyst? If you're looking for some way to sweeten the deal for Orinoco, I'm not the person who you would need to wine and dine. I have no say in any of that. I'm just here to relay the facts to you.”

  I laughed. “Oh, Lexi,” I purred, shaking my head. “Trust me when I say my thoughts are on anything other than business. From what I've seen, you're very beautiful and very intelligent. I like that in a woman. I admire that in a woman. I'm asking you to dinner purely for my own entertainment. And yours, I hope.”

  She looked uncertain, and I wondered just how much of a prude she was. It had been a while since I’d had any woman prove to be a challenge. Usually, when they heard about my millions and saw my good looks, they were practically throwing themselves at my feet.

  Lexi straightened a little, looking over my shoulder, and I could see that blush back on her cheeks. I wondered what it would take to cause it to darken. I wondered if she would blush when I laid her down in bed and stripped her bare.

  “All right,” she finally agreed. “You can take me to dinner. But you're paying, Mr. Billionaire.”

  “That's only fair,” I agreed, feeling a quick flash of disappointment at the fact that she had given in so easily. Maybe she was just the same as all the other women. I'd still take her to dinner, of course, because it would be rude to rescind the offer now. Anyway, I was still interested in her body, even if she proved to be dull in other respects. It was a shame, though. I really did want a challenge.

  I suppressed a sigh and turned back to the papers in front of us, hurrying through her explanations so I could get her out of my office and forget about how badly I needed something truly interesting in my life again.

  Chapter Three

  Lexi

  I checked my reflection one last time and turned towards Misty, putting my hands on my hips. “You're sure you don't think it's too much?” I asked worriedly.

  Misty snorted. “If anything, I think it's not enough,” she said. “You said he was taking you to that new place in Columbia Tower, didn't you? You realize that restaurant only seats about ten tables at a time? You have to know someone to get in there. And you have to have money to know someone. Plus, it's French. You're never going to look overdressed at a fancy French restaurant. That's the way I see it.”

  I turned back towards the mirror. “Now you've got me worried that I'm underdressed,” I muttered.

  “You look beautiful,” Misty said, catching my arms and pulling me back around, critically eyeing my simple black dress and turquoise jewelry. “God, I'd kill to have curves like yours!”

  “You've got that cute petiteness to you, though,” I protested.

  “And you've got boobs, a narrow waist, and a good ass,” Misty complained. “And a brain.”

  I laughed. “You've got a brain,” I said.

  “Sure, but nothing like yours, Ms. Statistician,” Misty said, rolling her eyes. A horn honked out front, and Misty turned me around, swatting my ass and sending me on my way. “I'll have my phone on,” she promised, before I could even ask. “Same as always. If anything goes bad, just shoot me a text, and I'll call with news of some disaster.”

  I grinned at her. “You're the best,” I told her.

  “Of course, I am,” Misty said, tossing her hair. “I'm your best friend. Now get going. And just try to have a little fun tonight, would you? You haven't been on a date in ages.”

  I shook my head but didn't reply to that one.

  Out on the curb, Andrew was waiting in a flashy red sports car, exactly what I might have expected for him to be driving. I slid into the passenger's seat, smiling over at him. “Hey.”

  He smiled charmingly back at me. “You look gorgeous,” he told me.

  I blushed and ducked my head. “Thanks. You look good, too.”

  The suit was pretty much the same as the one he'd been wearing at work the previous day, although maybe a slightly darker shade of blue. He probably had two dozen suits all in similar shades, all perfectly tailored to fit him. I snorted as I got a mental image of what his closet would look like.

  “What?” he asked, glancing over at me.

  “You fit all the stereotypes, don't you?” I asked. “A hot, young billionaire with a flashy sports car and way too many tailored suits. You've probably got a penthouse apartment in one of the hottest downtown buildings, all the latest electronics, a cleaning lady-slash-cook for the nights when you actually bother to stay home, and, I don't know, a vacation house down in Hawaii.”

  Andrew laughed. “Actually, I live in an actual house, not just an apartment. It's got really great views of the lake. And I don't have the vacation house either, although my dad is currently living in the Bahamas, so I guess that's close enough. And you forgot one thing: access to the hottest clubs in the city.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Well, how did I forget that one.” God, he was arrogant.

  I hated to say it, but there was something about that arrogance that was appealing, though. He was handsome, and he was confident, and there were worse ways to spend a night than being taken out to an expensive restaurant by a handsome man. A handsome man who thought I was attractive enough to be there on his arm.

  I smiled a little as we pulled in to the valet service and Andrew came around to open my door for me. “Thanks,” I said as I unfolded myself from the low seat.

  “No problem,” Andrew said, flashing me another of those charming smiles and leading me into the restaurant with a hand at my lower back.

  We were shown to a cozy table towards the back, with sweeping views of the city below. I gaped at the view for a moment, desperately wanting to pull out my phone and snap a few pictures, but I didn't know if that would make me look out of place amongst all these posh people who probably dined at places like this three times a week.

  I bit my lower lip, glancing over at Andrew. Then, I decided, what the hell. I was probably never going to go on a date like this again, so who cared if these people thought I was some uncouth barbarian? I'd never see them again. I pulled out my phone and snapped some pictures.

  When I turned back to face Andrew, he was smiling over at me. “This view never gets old,” he said. “And I've been coming to places like this since I was ten or something.”

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “Your parents dragged you out to French restaurants when you were ten?” I asked. “You must have hated that.”

  Andrew laughed. “My dad,” he corrected. “Yeah, I think I survived off burgers and french fries at most of the places. But he wanted me to be involved in the business from an early age. I know there are a lot of people who think that I wasn't ready to take over the company, but what they don't realize is that I've been in 'business school' for my entire life, practically.”

  “That must have been tough,” I said. “Did they at least give you coloring sheets when you got stuck at fancy meetings like this?”

  “You know, they never did,” Andrew said. “Never gave me wine, either.”

  “What a shame,” I said, giggling a little.

  Andrew handed me the wine menu. “See anything on there that strikes your fancy?”

  I swallowed, looking over the menu and trying not to think of the bottle of Riesling in my fridge back home, which I had bought on sale at the grocery store for thirteen bucks, a “splurge” over my usual eight-dollar bottle.

  “To be honest, I don't know the first thing about any of these,” I admitted, feeling suddenly out of place, like a child playing dress-up with her mother's things.

  Andrew raised an eyebrow at me and plucked the menu out of my hands. “Well, you at least know what kind of wine you like to drink, don't you?”

  “I'm not picky,” I mumbled.

  “Well, we'll want to match it with whatever you plan on ordering,” he said, sounding exasperated as he snapped open his food menu. “So perhaps we should start there.
”

  I swallowed and looked over my own food menu, searching for anything that I could identify and pronounce, other than a croque monsieur. I snorted, imagining what that would look like.

  “What?” Andrew asked, looking quizzically over at me.

  “I don't know what most of this stuff is,” I said, waving at the menu. “Except a croque monsieur. And I can only imagine what you and everyone else here would think of me if you took me to this fancy French restaurant for dinner and I ordered a ham and cheese sandwich.”

  Andrew chuckled as well and shook his head, glancing around the place. “I'm sorry if you're feeling out of place here,” he said, seeming genuinely apologetic. “It's been a while since I took out a woman who...” He trailed off, and I grimaced.

  “Who wasn't high-class?” I suggested distastefully, wondering if I shouldn't just leave.

  “I don't mean it like that,” Andrew said, looking momentarily embarrassed. “It's just, the circles that I run in, the types of women who I normally meet, they're all people from a certain circle.”

  “Other women with penthouses and trust funds and manicures and everything under the sun,” I said bitterly.

  “Lexi, I invited you here for a reason,” Andrew reminded me. “Because I think you're interesting and intelligent. I didn't bring you here to test your knowledge of French cuisine.”

  I sighed and hung my head. “Sorry, I just feel out of place, like you said.”

  “How about I order us a selection of the grignotages as a sampler?” he suggested. Seeing my look of confusion, he smiled and elaborated. “Grignotages would translate to something like 'little nibbles.' Snacks, maybe.”

  “Oh!” I said. “That might be a good idea.” But then, I frowned. “Are you sure, though? You probably know what you want, and I would feel bad making you change that just because I don't know what anything is. I could just randomly point to something on the menu. It's not like I'm a picky eater.”