Her Designer Baby: (Loving Over 40 Book 1)

by Washington, Shawna

  “I don’t hear his counsel complaining!”

  “Are you by any chance implying that I’m doing the complaining on behalf of his counsel?” she demanded in an awful voice.

  I backtracked. I had been on the verge of accusing a judge of bias and without any concrete proof apart from a feeling in my gut, I would be out of line.

  “If I may”

  “On the contrary, Ms. Davies, you may not! I will simply chalk this up to tiredness on your part and a lack of preparedness for today’s sitting. Go and put your house in order,” she ordered gruffly.

  I glared at her as she blithely announced her intention to rise for the day and did just that. I was at the door of her chambers demanding an audience almost before she had sat down.

  I was shown in by a pouting bailiff and I correctly surmised that he had been at the receiving end of the sharp tongue of Judge Arturo.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure, counsel?” she demanded, flipping the pages on a very voluminous law report without bothering to look up.

  “What exactly was that fiasco that played out in your courtroom this morning, Judge?” I shouted, marching all the way up to her desk and plunking both fists onto the hard tabletop. “May I remind you that as a member of the bench you are flirting with charges of bias if you continue to let your hatred of me seep into your handling of your duties.”

  “And may I remind you, counselor, that unless you learn to keep a civil tongue in your head when you address me, you are flirting with a charge of contempt!” she intoned sternly.

  I sighed, and sank onto the seat in front of her. “What do you have against me?”

  “Believe it or not, counselor, I am not out to get you. I just believe you could do better in court and stop badgering witnesses, blaming judges and making all sorts of excuses for your general incompetence.”

  I stared at the woman, unable to believe such an individual had somehow been appointed to the bench.

  “Any more sage advice you care to share, ma’am?” I asked through gritted teeth.

  “No, Ms. Davies. Now be a dear and shut my door on your way out,” she ordered.

  I got in a parting shot. “My formal request for a transfer of this matter will be on your desk first thing tomorrow morning.”

  She didn’t deign to reply; she just flipped another page on her law report and kept reading.

  Judge Lena Arturo was the most infuriating woman alive, I decided.

  Nicholas Carradigne

  I was restless again but this time I didn’t even pretend not to know the reason; the reason was a beautiful, sloe-eyed woman with curves that could drive a monk wild and a personality that kept me on my toes constantly.

  I still had two weeks away from work and it was proving to be a trial because with so much time on my hands, all I could do now was think about Oksana. Every time I shut my eyes lately, there she was; every time I heard feminine laughter, I automatically listened for her breathless, lilting voice; every time I saw a lady in a black dress I thought of the sinful little number she had had on the night we had made love. It still chaffed to remember that she had implied that hadn’t wanted me; all she had wanted was sex.

  That couldn’t be right; I had seen an entirely different truth in her eyes when she looked at me and in her hands when she touched me, I thought, my brows furrowing.

  I had wanted sex too but dash it all I had also wanted…more. That indescribable ‘more’ drove me wild and made me seek to know as much as I could about her. But I had called her for three days straight and she had pointedly ignored all my calls.

  I had to take matters into my own hands, I decided. I knew exactly what I wanted and I was done waiting around for her to return my calls. I grabbed my keys off the bedside table and with a flick of my wrist, got my Mercedes open. I had to go for a drive to clear my head. It was either that or go quietly crazy.

  My ride ended, mysteriously, in front of Oksana’s house and I turned off the ignition with a resigned sigh. I would always end up here, whether I liked it or not, I realized. I might as well try to see her since I was here anyway. My decision made, I bounded from the car and headed up the drive towards the house.

  She had either been watching from her windows or the sound of my car door slamming had alerted her because she opened the door before I ever got a chance to knock.

  My eyes riveted in alarm on her face; her eyes were huge and puffy as though she had been weeping.

  “Are you alright?” I asked in a strangled voice.

  She nodded, averted her gaze. “I’m perfectly fine.”

  “You don’t look fine to me. Your eyes are puffy, your nose is running, your”

  She rolled her eyes, embarrassment clear on her features “Thanks for pointing all that out. What are you doing here?”

  I grinned wolfishly at her. Even now, looking upset and drained as she was, her face scrubbed clean of all makeup, she was incredibly beautiful. My blood stirred hotly within me as I looked at her and I groaned inwardly. This woman had somehow managed to get under my skin and try as I might, I couldn’t extricate her. Worse, I didn’t want to.

  My attraction to her was no surprise; I had always been a ladies’ man with a decided partiality for hot legs like Oksana’s. What bothered me though was this unprecedented driving need to spend every waking minute around her. Now that I had seen her, I felt as though the sun had finally risen on my day. I clenched my teeth against such absurd sentimentality but as I looked at her, I could tell that had to be the understatement of the year. I felt the noose of commitment tighten about my neck and for the first time in my thirty-eight years, I didn’t feel like running the other way; I wanted her and I intended to have her.

  Her brown eyes widened to show her irises as she looked up at me, obviously waiting to see what I would do.

  “What’s wrong?” I countered quietly.

  She rolled her eyes. “Typical day at work and a judge who thinks I don’t know my ass from my head.”

  I asked sympathetically. Given how intelligent, smart and proud she was, that must have felt like a slap on her face.

  “If I know you, you didn’t let her get away with it.”

  She rolled her eyes some more, heedless of the effect it was having on my blood pressure as she lamented, “Much good it did me. The woman positively hates my guts.”

  I chucked her under the chin. “I know the very thing to cheer you up. Let’s go out tonight.”

  “Where?” she asked, eyeing me with comical suspicion as though she thought I would jump her bones any second.

  Smart lady.

  “A barbeque, with lots of people milling about, so relax,” I said dryly. “I won’t bite.”

  She hesitated, actually wrung her hands together, and then she blurted out, “I had a great time the other day. And I would do it again in a heartbeat but I’m not sure that’s where my head is at right now. I need to figure out some things for myself.”

  I nodded. I had suspected as much; she was pretty easy to read once one took the time.

  “So what time do we leave?” she asked, her gaze locked on mine.

  I stared into her eyes, feeling as though I was drowning in them. “Sixish?”

  She nodded and then I turned to leave. She made a small sound in her throat, part-laugh, part-resignation and when I looked inquiringly at her, she flung herself into my arms and buried her face in my neck. My hands automatically clamped around her, holding her in place as she lifted her face to mine.

  It was hard to say who made the next move but in a nanosecond, our lips met, tongues gliding against each other, rolling and tangling until I could feel my arousal pressed against her belly.

  She leaned back in my arms and smiled radiantly at me. “So, tiger, do we wait until after the barbecue or do we rotate the mattress now?”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. I almost swept her right off her feet and straight through her bedroom door. But sanity prevailed and I took a deliberate step back, chucking her under the ch
in as I said, “I’ll pick you up at six.”

  Her surprise was palpable and infinitely satisfying as the engine of my Mercedes purred to life and I drove off in a shower of gravel.

  * * *

  I pulled up in front of Oksana’s house, cruising to a smooth stop but before I could respond, she was out of the house, striding energetically towards the car.

  She was dressed simply in a floral dress that stopped at her knees with no jewelry apart from the teardrop earrings in her ears. Her rather tiny feet were encased in flat brown sandals with her toes peeking out; they were painted red and were extremely sexy, making me think scandalous thoughts that would make a hooker blush. Her olive skin glowed with good health, her eyes sparkling at me as she slid into the passenger side of the car. Her perfume assailed my senses, a faint hint of jasmine and some other indefinable scent that stirred my senses and tantalized my nostrils. I reached out to flip her dress off the handbrake and the smooth, silky texture of it made me long to caress the material.

  I hurriedly pulled my hand away; this woman would be the death of me, I thought humorously as I stifled an inward groan.

  “You look great,” I said. The understatement of the year: she looked good enough to eat and hot enough to turn every male head in sight.

  She turned mine, that was for sure. Her makeup was barely there, flawless and enticing. Her lips were painted a deep shade of coral that made me want to kiss her.

  I started the ignition, reflecting that we had a very interesting evening ahead. As soon as we pulled up to No. 15, New York Avenue, I saw her sit up with interest, her eyes scanning the magnificent driveway.

  “We’re here,” I said unnecessarily.

  “Where’s ‘here’?” she asked.

  “My family home,” I said casually, watching her intently.

  I knew why I was watching her and I hated myself for it but I couldn’t help myself. In the past, ladies who wouldn’t ordinarily give me the time of day took one look at my family’s wealth and decided I would look a whole lot better with them on my arm, strolling down an aisle before three thousand guests. I had learned to stop bringing people home or letting them know I was a son of the ‘New York Carradignes.’

  But somehow, some way, Oksana seemed to be different. Dollar signs didn’t light up her eyes; rather she looked alarmed. I found out why in two seconds when she turned back to face me. “You brought me to meet your family?”

  My mouth quirked in a grin. “Relax. It’s just a barbecue and you’re just a friend.”

  She threw me a look; she hadn’t been ‘just a friend’ since the day we met at the ice rink.

  “I doubt if they will see it that way,” she said after an uncomfortable silence, nodding meaningfully towards where my mom and sisters were rushing out on the heels of each other, jubilant and cheerful because they hadn’t seen me in months.

  They surrounded me, exclaiming over each other as they hugged me and kissed me. I met Oksana’s eyes over their heads and she looked daggers at me. I grinned at her, enjoying her ire.

  I placed my hand at the small of my mother’s back and turned her to face Oksana.

  “This is my mother, Laura Carradigne,” I said. “My sisters Amy and Jewel,” I added.

  “It’s a pleasure, ma’am,” Oksana said politely, extending one slim palm for a handshake.

  My mother’s eyes gleamed at me. “You actually brought someone home?”

  I shrugged, ignoring Oksana’s piercing gaze. “Don’t get carried away, she’s just a friend.”

  “Hmm. Tell that to your granny. She’s waiting for you inside,” Mother chortled.

  Oksana walked slowly beside me as I headed towards the house, answering a million questions from my sisters. They were twins and like most twins, they had the annoying tendency to finish each other’s questions and sentences.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Oksana whispered to me in low tones out of the side of her mouth, careful to prevent the sound from carrying to my mom or sisters.

  “Going in for a lovely meal?” I said drolly.

  She wasn’t amused. “You should have alerted me.”

  “Why? So you could have claimed a stomachache and begged off?”

  A guilty look flashed across her face and I grinned. I was starting to understand her faster and better.

  “I just know something’s gonna go wrong,” she declared unhappily.

  “Don’t worry, if you spill apple juice down your lovely dress, I’ll lick it all off later,” I whispered bracingly, earning myself a pert glare.

  Despite her words, I saw that she was biting the inside of her cheek to hold in her shout of laughter. I saw immediately that there were few other guests besides the family but even then, I knew almost everyone. I introduced Oksana as we mingled and I noted happily that she related well, fitting seamlessly in with my friends and family. She really knew how to work a crowd, I thought several minutes later as I observed her above the rim of my glass. Wherever she went, there was laughter and gaiety and as I watched her, I admitted to myself that Oksana had become extremely important to me. But I couldn’t help noticing that for all her carefree gaiety, there was a shadow of sadness in her eyes especially when little Nikki recognized her and hurtled her wiry little body into Oksana’s arms.

  I spied my favorite person in the whole wide world, my grandmother, at the bar, deep in animated conversation with someone. I was eager to introduce the two of them and I pulled Oksana away from her discussion with my Uncle Herbert.

  As I steered Oksana in that direction, we began to laugh in low tones about how she had expertly handled Uncle Herbert who only wanted to talk about rock formations at every party he attended. By the time she had been done with him, the man had forgotten his boring fascination with rocks and was obviously under Oksana’s spell.

  All traces of amusement vanished and her brown eyes widened to the size of saucers when I said, “Oksana? I would like you to meet my grandmother, Judge Lena Arturo.”

  Oksana Davies

  I made a sound, an audible gasp, as I took one look at Nick’s grandmother and backed up several steps, unconsciously shaking my head in denial. Was it my imagination or did the world tilt a little?

  “What is it?” Nick queried, looking down at me in concern.

  I couldn’t answer. My gaze was locked onto that face as though from the deepest recesses of my nightmare. Visions of Arturo thundering at me from the bench flitted through my brain and my hands tightened at my sides as I gaped at the woman.

  She was also regarding me in tense, surprised, displeased silence, her lips pursed in more than a little anger before she turned and speared Nick with a glare that often reduced seasoned lawyers to babbling incoherence. He merely smiled politely back at her, apparently unfazed. Obviously the man had nerves of steel because every other person seemed to freeze in place whenever her piercing green gaze so reminiscent of Nick’s sliced through them.

  “I take it there’s an explanation for this?” she asked, her voice hard and unyielding.

  Nick hugged her closer to his side with his hand as he leaned down to kiss her temple with a fond chuckle. “What now, Grandmama? I haven’t finished the introductions. This is Oksana Da”

  “I know exactly who that…person is,” she cut in brusquely, eyeing me coldly. She somehow managed to make ‘person’ sound like something really despicably low and subterranean; an insult without equal.

  My chin went up and I grinned at the angry old woman, an effort which almost made my face crack with how brittle the smile felt. “A pleasure, ma’am. How do you do?”

  “What are you doing here?” she got out through gritted teeth.

  “Attending the barbecue, what else?” I countered, fluttering my lashes innocently.

  “Get out,” she hissed.

  Nick’s confused laugh interrupted. “Do you two know each other?”

  I gave him a half-grin. “Judge Arturo and I go way back. We don’t always see eye-to-eye on issues I’m af
raid.”

  His disbelieving glance cut to Arturo’s and I watched in open-mouthed amazement as she beamed maternally at him before reaching up to slightly ruffle the hair at his temples since she couldn’t very well reach the top given her diminutive stature.

  “It’s nothing to trouble yourself about, dear. Now please get your grandmother some more wine, I’m dry,” she proclaimed, tipping her empty wineglass at him and beaming helplessly. “I’m sure your friend here can keep me company until you return.”

  The woman was queen of innuendos. She managed to make ‘friend’ sound like another dirty and contemptible word. Her judgments always made for an amazing read, I recalled. In one, she had called the perp every name in the book and then she had thrown the book at him.