Quarterback Baby Daddy (A Secret Baby Sports Romance)

by Claire Adams

  Lexi gave me a watery smile, tears beginning to slip down her cheeks. “These are tears of joy, in case you were worried,” she joked.

  “Come here, you,” I said, hugging her sideways as we pulled into a parking space. I kissed her hair. “I'm going to love you forever, in case you were worried.”

  “Good,” Lexi said quietly.

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  BILLIONAIRE’S SECRET BABIES

  By Claire Adams

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 Claire Adams

  Chapter One

  Archer

  I woke up before the sun and immediately got down on my knees to make my bed. In the Army, they taught me how to smooth down the top and tuck the ends underneath the mattress so that the bed was perfectly flat and stiff. It was so tight I could’ve bounced a nickel off it. When I was done, I stood up to inspect my work. A fleck of lint remained at the foot of the bed, sitting there like a scar on a beautiful face. I snatched it up and threw it into the trash before I hopped into the shower.

  Everything in my world had to be perfect. I couldn’t tolerate uncertainties, and I refused to wait and see how things turned out, not with two boys to raise and a business to run.

  It wasn’t just any business, either. Sans Contracting was a multi-billion dollar contracting firm. We worked closely with the Navy, providing them a never-ending stream of technological advancements for their aircraft. That meant steady, well-thought-out research and a diligent staff who could work miracles on a daily basis.

  If the company couldn’t deliver consistent results, it would collapse. The Navy would pull our contracts, and we’d be left with nothing but an empty warehouse and a worthless pile of stock. The only way to keep things afloat was to maintain a strict measure of discipline in my life.

  I pulled on a crisp white button-up, a jacket, and black slacks. Then I checked myself in the mirror to make sure I looked presentable. This wasn’t vanity. I hated worrying about my appearance, but as the old saying goes, the clothes make the man. I had to look the part if I wanted to inspire confidence in my staff and in my clients.

  Still, my focus on image extended only so far. I kept my black hair short, almost buzzed on the top with a fade on the sides. The last thing I wanted to do was go to the hairdresser once a week to get dolled up like royalty.

  It didn’t matter. I left an impression on everyone I met, whether for good or for bad. It was my eyes that did it. People said they looked unnatural, like green fire set against my mocha-colored skin. I used to play with people whenever I first met them. I’d train my eyes on them with a serious look and watch as they shifted around uncomfortably or shut down altogether. That trick was partially responsible for my success. A man with the ability to disarm people with a single glance could easily get ahead.

  When I was done getting dressed, I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and called my nanny, Mona.

  “I’m downstairs,” she said. “I’ll be up in a moment.” She hung up. The woman was in her eighties and still managed to get up at four in the morning.

  I was almost ready for work when I saw her walk up quietly to my bedroom door. She was short and round, her white hair in a bun. A scarlet broach held the collar of her black dress together.

  “You can come in,” I said, once I’d finished tying my shoes.

  “I checked on the boys. They’re still sleeping.”

  “You didn’t wake them up?” I asked as I gathered my things.

  “No, they’re fine.”

  I began walking downstairs. “Was Abel’s forehead warm?”

  She followed me. “Not that I could tell. I think he got over the worst of it yesterday afternoon.”

  “Let me know if he gets a fever.”

  “You don’t have anything to worry about,” she said as I walked out the front door.

  I wasn’t the kind of man who just left his children with anybody—quite the opposite. An Olympic gold medalist wouldn’t meet my standards, but Mona did. She was the only person I’d ever trusted my children with, and I couldn’t imagine using anyone else.

  A hulking black luxury sedan waited for me outside. I got in the back seat and motioned for the driver to get moving. The car had lots of room, so I wouldn’t have to feel claustrophobic and could move around comfortably.

  I wanted to drive myself, but that was a silly dream. My life was too demanding. Usually, by the time I got to the car I was already swimming in emails and phone calls, all of them requiring my urgent attention. I could either work or drive. I chose work.

  Most of my company’s projects were done on the naval base. I hated the place. It felt like entering a fascist dictatorship, but there was an airstrip and a place for my research and testing departments to work. They were the most important departments. What they did could make or break the company, so I kept them close and did my best to keep tabs on what they were doing.

  When we arrived at the base, we passed through a series of security gates where they checked our IDs before letting us in. To the east, I could see the yellow glare of the sun rising over the airplane graveyard, where they kept miles and miles of historic models, all of them rotting in the field. I would’ve killed to get a look at them and tinker around inside, but access was restricted.

  It didn’t matter. I barely had time to see what my people were working on. I couldn’t spare a moment to indulge my interest in old planes, even if they would grant me access. Oddly enough, today was different. My phone hadn’t beeped once, so I had a few free moments of silence on the ride over.

  A test was scheduled for today at the warehouse near the airstrip. I told my driver to drop me off there so I could take a look and keep an eye on things. When I walked into the warehouse, the supervisor, Rick, had a technician backed up against the wall near the office. The tech saw me come in. He was young, almost a kid. His eyes got wider and wider as I walked closer. It was bad to mess up in front of Rick. It was a newer employee’s nightmare to screw up in front of the head of the company.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Rick asked the tech. “Hold onto that sensor like it’s worth a few million dollars. Because it is.”

  “Anything I should be interested in?” I watched the tech closely, forking him with my unnerving gaze. “What did you do?”

  “N-nothing,” the tech said, shrinking away and folding his arms over his chest.

  I turned to the supervisor and grinned at him evilly. “Do we have to fire another tech this week?”

  The poor kid went a sickly shade of green. I thought he might actually be sick right there in the warehouse. Rick shot me a subtle smile before turning back to the tech.

  “I don’t know, boss. I think we should give him another chance.”

  I turned my gaze back on the tech and nodded slowly. “All right, Rick. But I’ll be keeping an eye on this one. He should probably get out of here before I change my mind.”

  The tech practically squeaked in fear as he hurried away from us and out of the warehouse. I was able to hold in my laughter until he was gone. Rick joined in, shaking his head and chuckling.

  “You’re pure evil,” he said.

  “Oh, come on, Rick. Just having a little fun.”

  “You just damaged that poor boy for life.”

  “He won’t be making mistakes anytime soon, that’s for sure.” There was a plane sitting in the center of the warehouse. It was an old recreational model, the kind that amateur pilots might fly. I recognized it immediately. “Is Bessie ready to fly?”

  “I think so.”

  “What was wrong with her?�
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  “The fuel was contaminated, and the engine needed a bit of a tune up.”

  I nodded. “Did you get that sorted out? I don’t want her crashing on her first flight.”

  “Yeah. We’re going to try her out. She’s basic and easy to work with, perfect for testing out the new sensor prototype.”

  “She’s a good choice,” I agreed.

  “We’ll have her ready to go here in a second if you’d like to see the test,” Rick said.

  “That’s why I’m here.”

  “It’s boring, though.” Rick turned back to me with a hushed voice. “We went over that entire machine. It’s going to take off, go in a loop, and land. Then all of the technicians will clap and cry like this is NASA or something.”

  “Let them have their moment.”

  “It’s too dramatic. I can’t trust these men the way I used to. They’re pussies, every last one of them.”

  I stifled a laugh. “That’s what you say about Army men, too.”

  “Yeah, but y’all are different. At least you have muscle. Just not much going on up in here.” He playfully knocked on my skull. I grabbed him by the wrist, twisting it back.

  “Ah, come on.” He tried to squirm away.

  “Fine.” I let him go.

  “The Navy can’t be all that bad. They got you making billions.”

  “But the Army was what got me to the head of the pack,” I said.

  “I don’t buy it.” Rick led me to the back wall where we could watch the takeoff. “You come for drinks tonight?” Rick handed me a pair of earmuffs to block out the sound of the plane taking off.

  “I guess.” I put the earmuffs on and watched as the plane took off, looped around the airfield, and landed back down. The technicians all clapped and ran out toward the plane crying and taking pictures. Somebody had even brought a cake. I usually encouraged things like that. It helped keep their spirits up and made them feel like they were accomplishing something. Still, I had to agree with Rick; it was more than a little corny.

  When the test was over, I excused myself and walked to the back of the warehouse to check my phone. There was a swarm of messages, and they just kept coming, more every second. It was Armageddon. The entire office was running around like chickens with their heads cut off because I was ten minutes late. I couldn’t avoid it any longer. I had to head to the office.

  There were a million questions the second I walked in. After that, a never-ending wave of emails, voicemails, text messages, and, of course, an endless stream of people in and out of my office. Then, there was the paperwork. I could die happy if it meant never having to sign and date another form again. I was going to have to work twice as hard to make up for the time I lost at the warehouse. Otherwise, I wouldn’t get out in time to go to the bar, and I needed a drink—badly.

  Chapter Two

  Zoe

  Owning a bakery was a nice fantasy. A pretty shop with flowers in the lobby, all in blue and white, with decorative cakes sitting in glass displays. It was supposed to be a creative outlet and the fulfillment of a dream. The reality was, of course, much different.

  Zoe’s Bakery was my slave ship. There was the baking and cleaning, a steady stream of customers, and monumental piles of dishes that kept me up late every night. If I allowed myself to rest, I wouldn’t be able to make my orders on time or keep up with the daily demand from the customers. People would stop coming, and I’d end up losing money until I had nothing left but a small business loan that I couldn’t pay.

  I knew the risk I was taking when I opened the bakery. I thought it through and planned everything out. That was the only reason I was able to survive off of what I made, but I couldn’t plan everything, and there was always the chance that I’d make a fatal mistake and screw everything up.

  I had to learn to live with the anxiety and find joy in little things, like making up new recipes and experimenting with different spices. Last month, all of my signature cookies had zest. The month before that, I was on a chocolate kick, experimenting with dark chocolate, chocolate with chilis, white chocolate, and, of course, the perfect chocolate filling. Those tiny obsessions kept the excitement going. It helped rejuvenate the place and make sure that the life didn’t go out of it.

  By five o’clock, I could barely stand. The skin on my heels had worn away from walking around too much. Every time I moved my feet, the back of my shoes grated against the cut. I had to lean against the counter while I took orders just to keep my shoes from tearing into my heel.

  There was an afternoon rush—mostly kids and college students ordering coffee and pastries. The onslaught lasted for more than an hour, and my feet were screaming for relief. When I was done with the customers, I limped back into the office and took a seat. My legs were burning, and there was an ache in my lower back that simply wouldn’t go away.

  Chloe’s shift started in fifteen minutes. Usually, I waited until she arrived to sit down, but I couldn’t stand the pain any longer. The moment I sat down, the doorbell chimed, which meant that there was a customer. I sighed and dragged myself to my feet.

  It was Mr. Beetle; that’s what Chloe called him. He wore nothing but baggy slacks that he had to keep pulling up and cheap t-shirts with stains on the front.

  The funniest thing about him was the way he leaned in over the counter and squinted through his thick glasses that magnified his eyes. Chloe hated it. She said he stunk, and he did. His slicked back black hair smelled like a zoo, and the smell of his body was repulsive.

  His head craned to the side like a bird, and he squinted up at the menu on the wall behind the counter. He moved his lips as he read over the menu in his head.

  “Can I help you?” I asked, staying a step back from the counter.

  He looked down as if I’d appeared out of thin air in front of him. “How are you, Zoe?”

  “Good, and you?”

  “Good, good.” He was missing some teeth. I could see the gaps in the front of his mouth.

  “What can I get for you today?”

  “Um.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. What do you like to eat?”

  I wanted to climb over the counter, grab him, and tell him to hurry up, but I didn’t. Instead, I drummed my fingernails on the counter, just one quick swipe. He didn’t seem to notice. “I just made some blueberry scones.”

  “Yes, but I need something to drink.” He seemed to mull it over as if it were the biggest decision he’d ever made.

  “How about a hot cocoa?” I only suggested it because it was already made. I could just pour it up and get him out of here. He liked to hang around though and take his time. It was infuriating; he usually came in when I was ready to collapse.

  “Blueberry scone and hot cocoa it is, then.” He shuffled around in his pockets and pulled out wadded up bills and an assortment of coins.

  “That’ll be six eighty-four.”

  “All right. Let’s see here.” He dumped the change on the counter. I checked the clock while he counted it. Chloe was already five minutes late, and I hoped for her sake that she didn’t keep me waiting any longer.

  “One…two…” He was counting the last twenty cents in pennies. I counted them mentally then swept them up. He looked up at me as if he were a child that’d just gotten his toy taken away. I ignored him, grabbed a cup, and poured out his hot chocolate. Then I grabbed him a scone. He seemed anxious, bobbing back and forth on his heels like he was excited about getting a piece of candy.

  “Here ya go,” I said.

  He snatched the bag away and turned to walk outside. The door opened, and Chloe rushed in. Her nose wrinkled as she sidestepped him.

  Chloe followed me into the back and leaned against the door frame while I took a seat. She was skinny, with short black hair that she kept in a ponytail, and that classic model beauty that everyone could appreciate. I’ve been told the same thing, but I usually just dismissed it as flattery. My blond hair was too flat and stringy, and my nose was too big, but I had a nice figure.

&
nbsp; “You’re late,” I announced.

  “Five minutes doesn’t matter.”

  “It does when your boss has blisters on her heels.” I tried not to cringe as I pulled off my black kitchen shoes so I could change into my flats.

  “Jesus, I’m sorry. I got out the door a little late.”

  “It’s fine. I shouldn’t be mad at you anyway. You’re giving me a much-needed break.”

  “Dude,” Chloe said, waving her hand over her nose. “What is wrong with that guy? Did you smell him? I could barely breathe.”

  “He’s disabled. You shouldn’t make fun of him.”

  “He’s creepy is what he is. Don’t let him in the store. We serve food here. People aren’t going to want to come in if it smells like that.”

  I stood up and grabbed my water bottle from my desk, then I walked out of the office. “It doesn’t matter. If we banned every creep that came in here, we wouldn’t have any business.”

  “You’re right.” Chloe shrugged and put on an apron.

  I followed her into the kitchen. “Donuts are done. They just need icing. There’s a cake that needs finishing tomorrow. I left instructions.” Chloe nodded along. “I’ll need you to make a batch of apple scones, though.”

  “Did you mix up the apples?” Chloe didn’t sound happy.

  “No,” I groaned. “We ran out of blueberry during the lunch rush. I had to prep more. It was a complete disaster.”

  “Geez, you should’ve called me.” She pulled a box of apples out of the walk-in.

  “I didn’t want to bother you. It wasn’t that bad.”

  “Listen,” Chloe said. “Get out of here. I’ve got this.”

  “All right.” I felt like a new mother leaving my infant for the first time. I kept looking back at Chloe, a little uncertain.