His Billion Dollar Baby

by Lea Nolan

  They played three games. She won the first, but while their scores in the second and third were close, he took them both. Her loss could be attributed to her tiny baby bump and inability to bend and twist as deeply as she might otherwise. But the defeat was hardly worth crying over. By the end of the afternoon, Carter seemed like a different person than the man she’d walked in with. He’d eaten the French fries and pizza she’d ordered, and drunk a glass of the cheap, domestic beer on tap. As much as she hated to admit it, she liked this Carter. He was loose and almost carefree with an easy smile that, if it were possible, made him even more attractive. Throughout the afternoon, he hadn’t brought up her living situation or the baby once, and had even let her pay for their excursion without arguing. If this was the real Carter Anderson, maybe they could be friends. Or at least non-enemies.

  …

  Carter pulled the Jag into River View’s gravel driveway and shut off the engine. He twisted toward her. “Thanks for giving me another chance. Today was fun.”

  Gwen nodded, surprised at how much she’d enjoyed herself. “The whole thing was. I know you don’t think I enjoyed the museum, but I did, except for that devil sculpture.”

  Leaning against his headrest, he chuckled. “It is pretty horrific. I hope it doesn’t give you nightmares.”

  “Probably not. Though, if it does, I’ll come get you in the middle of the night to make sure you suffer along with me.”

  “Deal.” He held out his hand for her to shake.

  She stared at it for a moment before grasping it. Though she’d only been joking, and thought he must be, too, the gesture felt oddly intimate. Sure, she’d reached out to tug him in one direction or another while bowling, but this was different. He was extending himself toward her. Was she ready to accept it?

  Don’t be an idiot. It’s a handshake. He’s a businessman who pumps strangers’ hands all day. It doesn’t mean anything. Plus, it’s rude to leave him hanging. Gwen shoved her thoughts aside and slid her palm against his, then clasped his fingers. He squeezed back. His hand was strong and wide, yet pliable. “Deal,” she responded as her breath caught, suddenly drowning in his dark blue gaze. “And thanks for being such a great sport,” she managed. “I know duckpin wasn’t exactly on your agenda.”

  “Are you kidding?” Carter smiled as his brow arched. “I love a good game. Especially when I’m up against a strong competitor. It brings out the best in me.” His grip tightened.

  She wiggled her hand free. “Considering how well you played today, I guess you’ve met your match.”

  “Perhaps. Though I must warn you, I play for keeps. And I rarely lose.” His gaze bored into her.

  She shrugged, feigning indifference, even though her chest was tight. “That’s all right. Winning isn’t everything.”

  Reaching out and brushing a stray hair off her forehead, he said. “Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong. It’s all there is.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Carter was conflicted. The plan was going perfectly. Since their day at the god-forsaken duckpin bowling alley, he and Gwen had spent more time together, growing closer, just as he’d hoped. Over the past two weeks, he’d managed to free up another weekend for an afternoon trip to the duckpin alley, and several afternoons for lunch at Ari the Falafel Guy’s cart. He’d enjoyed these trips more than he imagined and had even begun to crave those addictive sandwiches.

  Moreover, he liked who he was when he was with Gwen—relaxed and unburdened by the pressures of running a multi-national company, and temporarily freed from his grief over Ben. Spending time with her was so enjoyable, he almost felt guilty about his plan to seduce her for the proxy control. But then he remembered Work It Gear and the threat she and her baby posed to the company, and he snapped out of it.

  Until his conscience niggled at him, challenging his commitment to the plan. After several weeks at River View, Gwen hadn’t manipulated his mother into taking her on an extravagant shopping spree, nor had she demanded they start furnishing a nursery. She paid her way at lunch and even treated him to duckpin. Perhaps there was a chance she’d been telling the truth and wasn’t looking to bilk the Andersons of their wealth. Maybe.

  He’d thought about bringing up the proxy issue a hundred times, wondering whether he should just be up front and put this to rest once and for all. But Carter couldn’t bring himself to do it. He wasn’t sure if she’d fallen for him yet, and springing it on her prematurely could have disastrous results. Ones that didn’t just impact Work It Gear. Selfishly, he’d have to deal with the consequences of alienating her. No more falafel, no more duckpin, and most importantly, no more easy-going Carter.

  Unbidden images haunted him at the most inopportune times. During a brainstorming session, at a meeting, on the golf course, his mind’s eye saw her surprised smile when he bested her at duckpin, or heard the soft music of her laugh as he slid his foot into those ugly shoes. More frequently, he relived the moment he’d caught her lilting body when she’d fainted and how he gazed upon her cradled in his arms. Up close, her eyes were even more gorgeous than he’d thought. Wintergreen and flecked with white, he’d never seen anything like them. They were the perfect counterpoint to her captivating Irish coloring. No wonder Ben had fallen for her.

  If Ben actually had, he reminded himself. There was still, after all, no proof the baby was an Anderson.

  Wouldn’t that solve everything? No relation, no need for a proxy. He’d control Work It Gear outright and wouldn’t have to go through the charade of seducing her. Of course, it would also prove he’d been right all along about her being a scheming gold digger. In a strange way, it would be a colossal disappointment, but at least he wouldn’t have to debase himself and potentially break her heart.

  The answer was suddenly clear. He needed a paternity test, pronto. A quick Internet search delivered the answers he sought. A couple of fairly simple, albeit invasive, tests could put the issue to rest for good. Now if he could just convince Gwen to agree.

  With that goal in mind, he came home early one evening to catch her before she went to bed.

  Gwen’s eyes brightened when he walked into the dining room. “Hey, look who’s home for dinner. Why didn’t you call ahead? We would have waited for you.”

  God, her smile was beautiful. And miracle of miracles, despite all his scheming, it was directed at him.

  He loosened his tie and sat down at Judith’s right hand. “Nah, that’s okay. My meeting ended early and I figured, what the heck, why not enjoy some of Loretta’s home cooking?” It bothered him that he was such as good liar, but at least in this case, it was for a good cause.

  Judith laughed. “Heaven forbid you make it home for my cooking.”

  He grinned. “Do you even remember the last time you cooked?” He poured himself a glass of Cabernet.

  “Um, I believe it was at the soup kitchen three Thanksgivings ago.” Judith raised her glass to him.

  “Fair enough.” He chuckled as he toasted her. “That’s sooner than I would have imagined.”

  “Yet again, you underestimate me, son.”

  “Only at my peril.” He winked at Gwen, took a sip, and savored the succulent, woody liquid.

  “You two are a regular comedy act, you know that?” Gwen grinned.

  “Really?” He raised his eyebrow. “Maybe we should take it out on the road. What do you think, Mother? I hear there’s big money in comedy.”

  “I think I’m far too old to take anything anywhere these days, no matter what it pays.” She laughed as she lifted her napkin off her lap and placed it on the table.

  “Hey, that’s not true,” Gwen said. “You’re plenty young.”

  “That may be so, but I don’t feel it.” Yawning, she covered her lips with a wrinkled but dainty hand. “Look, it’s only seven-thirty, yet I’m ready for bed.” She pushed out from the table and stood.

  Excellent. He’d timed his arrival perfectly. There was no way he would attempt this conversation with Judith around. She’d
boil him alive.

  Carter rose to his feet, “Good night, Mother.” He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

  “Good night,” she said, then waved at Gwen. “Will I see you in the morning?”

  “I don’t think so, I’ve got an early day tomorrow. My first patient is at eight.”

  “All right, then, tomorrow evening,” Judith said as she departed for bed.

  When he was sure they were alone, Carter looked across the table. Gwen’s kelly green top accented the red highlights in her hair. Could she possibly know how breathtaking she was? Undirected, his mind jumped ahead several months to imagine how she might look round with child. Damn, the image was hot. And so very wrong. He was only pretending to seduce her. As much as he’d put into this ruse, he hadn’t actually planned to sleep with her. Instead, he intended to draw her to the edge of commitment, secure her signature, then pull back and break it off. But the images that still blazed in his mind were awfully tempting. He searched for something to distract his mind.

  “You and my mother seem to be getting along well.” That did the trick. When in doubt, thinking about his mother was a guaranteed equivalent to a cold shower.

  Gwen smiled as she shifted to rest her jaw in the palm of her hand. “Yeah, she’s great. I like hanging out with her.”

  He nodded. “I think it’s worked out just as well for her. It’s clear she enjoys having you around. Especially to share dinner. I’m sorry I can’t get home earlier, what with work, and—”

  “Your hot bachelor lifestyle.” She giggled. “By the way, the latest issue of Washingtonian magazine came today.”

  His cheeks flushed with heat. Strange, he typically didn’t feel embarrassed by his newfound status. After all the heartache with Deandra, he was usually pretty damn proud of it. But for some reason he didn’t want Gwen to know how much of a dog he’d been over the last year-and-a-half. “I’m sure the truth isn’t nearly as exciting as what they print in the magazine.”

  “I don’t know.” She clucked her tongue against the side of her teeth. “Pretty much every page has you pictured with a different woman. And by the way, you look great in a tuxedo.”

  Did she really think so? Impossible. She was only teasing. He huffed. “Don’t get too excited. This is D.C. It’s all part of the job. Congressmen, senators, and charities constantly throw galas to troll for donations. Besides, it’s a monthly so the pictures are always dated.” Why did he find it necessary to clarify? And why did he feel the urge to explain how important his charitable work was to him, and how he wished he could find the time to do more than just sign checks?

  She crossed her arms and stared at him with a wry grin. “Uh huh.”

  Clearly she wasn’t buying his lame ass explanation, and she likely wouldn’t give a damn about his need to make a difference. He cleared his throat. “We’ve gotten off topic. What I meant to say is, I’m glad you’re here for my mother. I think she’s been lonely.” Now that he’d said it, it almost felt true.

  Gwen’s jaw dropped. “Oh my gosh. Did Carter Anderson just admit he was…wait for it…wrong?” Her eyes goggled in mock surprise as she slapped the table, causing the silver candlesticks to tremble. “Imagine that. He’s actually happy I moved in.”

  Why did she have to be so maddeningly quick? And witty? Drawing a deep breath, he plotted to maneuver the conversation toward the issue of a paternity test. “I wouldn’t exactly say wrong.”

  She leaned forward. “What would you say?”

  God, she was alluring. The arch of her brow, the sparkle in her eye, her velvety, translucent skin. If only he could lean toward her and breathe in that peach-soaked scent, then turn his face to kiss her luscious pink lips.

  What was he thinking? This wasn’t the time to pounce. No, that would send this conversation in a completely different direction, and probably earn him a slap across the cheek. He needed to squelch these unhelpful desires and focus on the task at hand. Gwen needed to like him, trust him first, before he made any moves. What had they been talking about? Ah, right, how to characterize his emotions.

  “How about apprehensive?” he asked, keeping his voice measured so as not to betray his still-straying thoughts.

  She tapped her chin. “Hmm, anxious or afraid that something bad would happen? Okay, I’ll buy that.”

  Here was his opportunity. Now, to finesse it. “I’ll admit it. A lot of things have made me anxious about this situation.”

  “It’s only natural. You’re right. I did show up out of nowhere. But I’m hoping you see I’m not interested in your family’s money.”

  “Yes, as much as I might appreciate it, my mother has not replaced that eyesore car of yours,” he deadpanned.

  She huffed. “I don’t know why you hate on my baby Civic. She might be old but she’s a great little car, gets fantastic gas mileage, and always starts.”

  “Trust me, there are other cars that are far more reliable. And aesthetically pleasing.” He ran his index finger around the rim of his wine glass. “But your car is not what’s got me so worried. Frankly, I’ve lost more sleep than I care to admit.”

  “Really?” Her brow furrowed. “What is it?” Her expression filled with concern.

  Clearing his throat, he hoped he could say this without coming off as a total heel and risk their good, but still tentative, bond. There was no other way than to just spit it out. “I’m having trouble accepting the child is an Anderson.”

  Tensing, Gwen drew back in her seat. Distrust flickered in her bright green eyes. “It is.” Her palms covered her abdomen.

  That wasn’t the reaction he wanted. He extended an open hand across the table. “Don’t misunderstand me. I know you claim it is, and my mother believes you.”

  “Claim?” Her voice was tight.

  He shook his head and pressed a fist against his forehead. “Damn, this isn’t coming out right. Listen, I want to believe you, I really do.” Until that moment, that hadn’t been the case, but now that he’d seen her reaction, he meant it. Against his better judgment he was beginning to like her. Maybe too much. He didn’t want to discover she was a fraud. On the other hand if she was telling the truth, he couldn’t risk losing the company to her. Either way, he needed an answer because the circular reasoning was driving him mad.

  “But?” She tilted her head, wary.

  “I need proof.” Her face froze and his mind raced to conjure a reasonable excuse. “I need to know you’re not scamming us just to live here.”

  “I wouldn’t do that.”

  Carter shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Who’s to say you wouldn’t lead us on for months, then take off once the baby’s born? That would kill my mother. She’s invested so much already into believing Ben left a little part of himself behind. If it turns out it’s not true, I don’t think she’ll survive.” He had to pat himself on the back. Pulling the Judith card was a master stroke. And now for the coup de gras. “And neither will my father.”

  Gwen looked down at the tablecloth and seemed to ponder his logic. After a moment she nodded. “So what do you need?”

  “Proof. A paternity test. And if it comes back positive, I swear, I’ll buy you a new car myself.”

  She laughed. “That’s it? You run a billion dollar company and that’s what’s causing you to lose sleep? I was wondering when you were going to bring up a paternity test. Mind you, it doesn’t really matter, because I’m not planning on accepting any of Ben’s money, but you make a good point about your parents. I hadn’t realized how much the baby would mean to them. If Judith’s got any nagging doubt, she deserves to know her grandchild is her own flesh and blood. And thanks for the offer on the new car, but I’ll pass. Baby Civic is staying put, if only because she bothers you so much.” She smirked.

  Carter could hardly believe his ears. Had it really been that easy to get her to agree? Gwen had struck him as much more headstrong than that. Perhaps he ought to bring up the proxy issue as well, though that might be going a bit too far. “You mean, you’ll g
o through with it?” Elation swelled in his chest.

  “Sure, for your parents, why not?”

  He drummed the tabletop with his fingers. “Great, I’ll call the doctor tomorrow and get things set up.”

  She lifted a raised palm. “Whoa, not so fast. The baby won’t be born for at least five months.”

  “Right, but you’ll need to schedule the test now. You’re too far along for the chorionic villus sampling, but you’re an excellent candidate for amniocentesis. It can be done up through your twentieth week.” The facts from his Internet searches rambled off his tongue.

  “I don’t care what I qualify for, I’m not having either test.”

  His brow furrowed. “But you just said you would.” Was he missing something?

  “I said I’d allow a paternity test. Which you can arrange using the cord blood when the baby’s born. There’s no way I’m having an amnio, I don’t care who wants it or for what reason.”

  His jaw tensed. “You’re being unreasonable.”

  “Am I? Do you have any idea what that test entails? They take a huge needle, jam it through your abdomen, and suck out amniotic fluid.”

  He gulped. That didn’t sound pleasant. “Women have it done every day.”

  Gwen’s eyes blazed. “Are you kidding?” She stood up from the table. “It’s an invasive procedure that carries a not inconsiderable risk of miscarriage or damage to the fetus. Do you really want to take that chance?”

  He was losing the argument. Desperate, he went to his go-to once again. “But what about my parents? Don’t you care about them?”

  “Ha! This isn’t about Judith or Rocky. This is about you being selfish and wanting an answer on your timetable. Well, you know what? There’s no way I’m risking this pregnancy or my child just to help you get a good night of sleep.” Pushing away from the table, she headed for the door. For the first time he noticed the tiny swell of her stomach. Pausing, she spun on her heels and glared at him. “Every time I begin to think you’re a decent guy, you prove me wrong.”