Have Baby, Need Billionaire

by Maureen Child

  Thoughts of Tula rose up in Simon’s mind as if his subconscious was combating what he was seeing. Reminding him of what he could have. What he might lose.

  Tula. The daughter of his enemy. Simon shouldn’t have been able to trust her. But he did. He shouldn’t have cared about her. But he did.

  Still, it wasn’t enough, he told himself, already reaching for the door handle and tugging it open.

  He owed it to his father. Hell, he owed it to himself to give Jacob the set down the man had practically been begging to receive for years.

  And nothing was going to stop him.

  Twelve

  There were posters of her latest book cover standing on easels at the front entrance of the bookstore. Management had even put her picture on the sign announcing the author reading and signing that weekend. Cringing a little, Tula tried not to look at her own image.

  “Ms. Barrons!”

  She turned to smile as Barbara, the employee responsible for all of this, hurried over. “Hi, nice to see you again.”

  Barbara shook the hand Tula offered and then waved at the sign. “Do you approve?”

  “It’s very nice,” she said, idly noting that she really needed a new publicity picture taken. “Thank you.”

  “Oh, it’s no bother, believe me,” Barbara told her. “We’ve sold so many of your books already, you’ll be signing for hours this weekend.”

  “Now that is good news,” Tula replied, reaching down to lift Nathan from his stroller when he started to complain. “It’s okay, sweetie, we won’t be long, then we’ll go to the park,” she promised.

  “You have a beautiful son,” Barbara cooed, reaching in to take one of Nathan’s tiny hands in hers.

  Pleased, Tula didn’t correct her. Instead, she felt her own heart swell with longing, pride and love. She looked at the tiny boy in her arms and smiled when he gave her a toothless grin. Kissing him tenderly, she looked at Barbara and said simply, “Thank you.”

  Simon walked to Jacob’s table, dismissing the hostess who tried to intercept him. His gaze locked on the old man; he paid no attention to the other diners or even to the three older men at Jacob’s table.

  All he could see was the man he’d waited years to get even with. The man who had destroyed Simon’s father and nearly cost him the business his family had built over generations.

  He stopped beside the table and looked down at the man who was his enemy. Tula had gotten her blue eyes from her father, but the difference was there was no warmth in Jacob’s eyes. No silent sense of humor winking out at him. She was nothing like her father at all, Simon thought, wondering how someone as warm as Tula could have sprung from a man with ice in his veins.

  “Bradley,” the older man said, glancing at him with a sniff of distaste. “What are you doing here?”

  “Thought we could have a chat, Jacob,” Simon said, not bothering to acknowledge the other men at the table.

  “I’m busy. Another time.” Jacob turned to the man on his right.

  “Actually, now works best for me,” Simon said, keeping his voice low enough that only those at the table were privy to what he had to say.

  The older man sighed dramatically, turned to face him and said, “Fine. What is it?”

  For the first time, Simon glanced at the other men. “Maybe we should do this in private.”

  “I don’t see any need for that,” Jacob argued. “This is a scheduled business meeting. You’re the intruder here.”

  Right again. It was only thanks to Mick’s reluctantly given information that Simon had known where to find the old goat. Now he didn’t argue, he merely turned his flat, no-negotiation stare on the other men at the table. It didn’t take them long to excuse themselves and stand up.

  “Five minutes,” Jacob told them.

  “I don’t need even that long,” Simon assured him as the three men left, heading for the bar.

  The steak house was old, moneyed and exclusive. The walls were paneled in dark oak, the carpet was bloodred and the booths and chairs were overstuffed black leather. Candles flickered on every table and wall sconces burned with low-wattage bulbs, making the place seem like a well-decorated cave.

  Simon took a seat opposite the old man and met that hard stare with one of his own. This was the moment he had waited for and he wanted to savor it. Jacob had taken something from him. Had tried to destroy Simon’s father and almost had. Now Simon had taken something from Jacob.

  Payback, the old man was about to learn, really was a bitch.

  “What’s this about?” Hawthorne leaned back in the seat and draped one arm negligently along the back of the booth. “Come to complain about my getting the property you wanted again? Because if that’s it, I’m not interested. Ancient history.”

  “I’m not here to talk about your dubious business practices, Jacob,” Simon told him.

  “What you call dubious, I call smart. Efficient.” The old man snorted. “Then if that’s not what’s chewing on you, what is it, boy? I’m a busy man. No time to waste.”

  “Fine. I’ll get right to it then,” Simon said, even while that voice in the back of his mind urged him to shut up, stand up and leave before it was too late. But looking into Jacob’s eyes, seeing the barely concealed sneer of superiority on his face, made it impossible for Simon to listen.

  “Well?” Impatience stained Jacob’s tone.

  “Just wanted you to know that while you were out stealing that property from me, I stole something from you.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Your daughter.” Simon hated himself for doing it, but he watched and waited for the old man’s reaction. When it came, it wasn’t what he had expected.

  Those icy blue eyes frosted over and emptied in the space of a single heartbeat. “I have no daughter.”

  “You do,” Simon argued, leaning forward, lowering his voice. “Tula. She’s at my house right now.”

  Jacob speared him with a hard look. “Tallulah Barrons is not my daughter. Not anymore. If that’s what you came for, we’re finished.”

  “You’d deny your own flesh and blood?” Shocked in spite of how badly he had always thought of Jacob Hawthorne, Simon could only stare at him.

  Jacob looked away and signaled for the hostess. When she arrived, he said, “Please tell my guests I’m ready to continue our meeting. You’ll find them in the bar.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said and hurried off.

  “You really don’t give a damn about Tula, do you?” Simon hadn’t moved. Couldn’t force himself to look away from the old man’s eyes.

  “Why the hell should I?” Jacob countered. “She made her choice. Now what she does—or,” he added snidely, “who she does it with—is nothing to me. We’re done here, Bradley.”

  Stunned to his bones, Simon realized he actually felt dirty.

  Just sitting at the same table with the man. Strange, but he had always pictured the moment of his revenge as tasting sweet. Being satisfying in a soul-deep way. He’d imagined that he would be vindicated. That he would walk away from Hawthorne, head held high, secure in the knowledge that he had bested the old thief. That he had won.

  Finally.

  Instead, years of anticipation fell flat. He felt as though he’d climbed down into the gutter to wrestle a rat for a bone. Mick had been right, of course. Simon had lowered himself to Jacob Hawthorne’s level and now he was left with a bitter taste in his mouth and what felt like an oil spill on his soul.

  Thoughts of Tula ran through his mind like a soft, cool breeze on a miserable day. She was the openhearted person he had never been. She was all of the smiles and warmth and joy that he had never known. Everything about her was the opposite of everything he was. Everything her parents had been. Somehow, she was the very heart that he hadn’t even realized was missing from his life.

  And he’d betrayed her.

  He had used her for leverage against a man who didn’t even see what an amazing woman his daughter was. But if Jacob Hawthorne was
blind, then so had Simon been. Now, though, he could see. Now that it was too late.

  Standing up slowly, Simon looked down at the man. Shaking his head, he had the last word as he told Jacob, “You know, I’ve wasted a lot of years hating your guts. Turns out, you just weren’t worth it.”

  Simon found Tula in the living room, curled up on the window seat reading. She looked up when he walked into the room and the smile she gave him, complete with dimple, tore at his insides. He had made up his mind to tell her the truth. All of it. But he knew the moment he did, everything would be ruined. Over. And he would have to live with the knowledge that he had hurt the one person in the world he shouldn’t have.

  “Simon? What’s wrong?” She came up off the window seat and walked to him, concern in her eyes.

  He held up one hand to hold her off, not trusting himself to go through with this confession if she came into his arms. Once he had the feel of her against him again, he might not be able to force himself to let her go. And that’s what he had to do.

  “I saw your father today,” he blurted, knowing there was no easy way to say any of this.

  Her jaw dropped and her blue eyes suddenly looked wary. “I didn’t realize you knew him.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Simon said tightly. “Remember when I told you about the man who nearly stole this house from my father? The man who stole a piece of property out from under my nose?”

  “My father.”

  “Yeah.” Simon walked past her and headed to the wet bar. There he poured himself a short scotch and tossed it down his throat like a gulp of medicine designed to take the inner chill away.

  “See, when I found out who you were,” he mused aloud, staring down at the crystal glass in his hand before shifting his gaze to hers, “I had the bright idea of somehow using you to get back at your father.”

  She actually winced. He saw the tiny reaction and, even from across the room, he felt her pain and hated himself for causing it. But he couldn’t stop now. Had to tell her everything. Didn’t someone say that confession was good for the soul? He didn’t think so. It was more like ripping your soul out, piece by piece.

  “I told him today that we were together.” He waited for a reaction. The only sign she had heard him was the expression of resigned sorrow on her face.

  “I could have told you,” she finally said into the strained silence, “that he wouldn’t care. My father disowned me when I chose to, as he put it, ‘waste my brain writing books for sniveling brats.’”

  “Tula…” He heard the old pain in her voice and saw her misery shining in her eyes. Everything in him pushed at him to go to her. To hold her. To…love her as she deserved to be loved. But he knew she wouldn’t welcome his touch any longer and that brought a whole new world of pain crashing through him.

  “He’s an idiot,” Simon muttered, then added, “and so was I. I didn’t want to tell you any of this, but you had the right to know.”

  “Oh,” she said sadly, “now I had the right to know.”

  He gritted his teeth and still managed to say, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “No,” she agreed, “probably not. It was just a byproduct of you going after what you wanted. In a way, I’m not surprised. I knew when I first met you that you were like him. Like my father. Both of you only know about business and using people.”

  He took a step toward her, but stopped when she moved back, instinctively. How could he argue with that simple truth? Maybe, he told himself, he was even worse than her father. He had actually seen Tula for who she really was and had lied to her, used her, anyway.

  Simon thought back to his meeting with Jacob Hawthorne. He had seen firsthand just what kind of man the old pirate was. And unless he made some changes in his own life, Simon knew he would end up just as cold and ruthless and empty as Jacob was.

  Choosing his words carefully, he said, “I know you have no reason to believe me, but I’m not the man I was when you first came here. More, I don’t want to be that man.”

  “Simon,” she said softly, shaking her head.

  “Let me finish.” He took a breath, and said, “There are a lot of things I should say to you, but maybe I don’t have the right anymore. So instead, I think the only way to prove to you that I’m not who you think I am, is to let you go.”

  “What?”

  “Hell,” he laughed shortly, shoving one hand through his hair with enough strength to yank it all out. “It’s the only decent thing to do.” He looked into her eyes. “We both know I’m ready to take care of Nathan. I’ll hire the best nanny in the country to help me out. And you can go home. Get away from here. From me. It’s the right thing to do.”

  Tula felt the world tip out from under her feet. She swayed under the blow of the unexpected slap. Bad enough to hear that the man she loved had only been pretending to care so that he could use her against the father that didn’t give a damn about her anyway. Bad enough to know that her hopes and dreams had just been shattered at her feet.

  Now, she was being sent away. From the baby. From Simon.

  For her own good.

  Pain was a living, breathing entity, and it roared from inside her as it settled in, making a permanent home in the black emptiness where her heart used to be. Hurt, humiliated and just plain tired of being used by the very people in her life she should have been able to count on, Tula sighed.

  “Don’t you see, Simon?” she whispered sadly. “Even in this, you’re still acting like my father.”

  “No,” he argued, but she cut him off because she just didn’t want to hear anything else he had to say.

  “Letting me go isn’t about me. It’s about you. About how you feel about what you did. About assuaging some sense of honor you believe you’ve lost.”

  “Tula, that’s not—”

  “What if I didn’t want to go?” she asked, watching him. “What then?”

  Naturally, he didn’t have an answer for her. But then, it didn’t matter, because Tula wasn’t waiting for one. It was too late for them and she knew it. She had to go, whether leaving would rip her heart to pieces or not.

  Softly, she said, “Nathan’s asleep upstairs. If it’s all the same to you, I’ll leave now, before he wakes up. I don’t think I can say goodbye to him.”

  “Tula, damn it, at least let me—”

  “You’ve done enough, Simon,” she told him, turning for the stairs. “Have your lawyer contact me. I’ll sign whatever papers are necessary to turn over custody of Nathan to you. And Simon,” she added, “promise me you’ll love him enough for both of us.”

  Over the next few days, Simon and Nathan were miserable together.

  Nothing was the same. Simon couldn’t work—he didn’t give a damn about mergers or acquisitions or the price of the company stock. He hated having Mick telling him I told you so every five minutes. The memory of Tula in his house was so strong that her absence made the whole place seem cavernous and as empty as a black hole.

  He and his son were lost without the only woman either of them wanted.

  Nathan cried continuously for the only mother he remembered. Simon comforted him, but it was a hollow effort since he knew exactly how the baby felt. And there was no comfort for either of them as long as Tula wasn’t there.

  Simon hadn’t even hired a nanny. He didn’t want some other woman holding Nathan. He wanted Tula back home. With them. Where she belonged. Every day without her was emptier than the one before. His dreams were filled with images of her and his arms ached to hold her.

  He had fallen in love with the one woman who probably couldn’t stand the sight of him. He had had a family, damn it, and he wanted it back. Yes, he had been a first-class idiot. A prize moron. But Tula had a heart big enough, he hoped, to forgive even him.

  If she hadn’t promised to do this signing, Tula didn’t know if she would have had the nerve to return to the city. Used to be she avoided San Francisco because there were memories of her father here. Now it was so much more.

 
Nathan and Simon were only blocks from this bookstore. They were in that Victorian that she’d come to love and think of as her own. They were no doubt settling into life with a nanny and she wondered if either of them missed her as desperately as she missed them.

  She sat cross-legged in the middle of the “reading rug” at the bookstore and looked at the shining, expectant faces surrounding her. Parents stood on the periphery, watching their children, enjoying their excitement. And Tula knew that she couldn’t simply walk away from Simon and Nathan.

  Yes, Simon had hurt her. Desperately. But he had told her everything, hadn’t he? It couldn’t have been easy for him to admit to what he had done. It said something that he’d eventually been honest with her.

  Through her pain, through her misery, one truth had rung clear over the last few days. Despite what had happened, she still loved Simon. And when the book signing was over, she was going to see him. She would just show up at the house and tell Simon Bradley that she loved him. Maybe he wouldn’t care. And maybe, if she took a chance, they could start fresh and rebuild their family.

  With that thought in mind, she smiled at the kids and asked, “Are you ready to hear about the Lonely Bunny and how he found a friend?”

  “Yes!” A dozen childish voices shouting in unison made her laugh and she felt lighter in her soul than she had since walking out of Simon’s life.

  Opening the book, Tula began to read and for the next half hour gave her young audience her complete attention. When the story of the Lonely Bunny and a white kitten ended, children applauded and parents picked up copies of her books.

  Tula smiled to herself as she signed her books and spent a minute or two with each of the children, giving them Lonely Bunny stickers to fix to their shirts. She was enjoying herself even while a corner of her mind worried over going to see Simon.

  Through the noise and confusion, Tula felt someone watching her. Her skin prickled and her heartbeat quickened in reaction even before she looked up—directly into Simon’s dark brown eyes. Instead of one of his sharply cut business suits, he was wearing jeans and a T-shirt with the Lonely Bunny logo. He held Nathan in his arms and she noticed that the baby wore a matching T-shirt.