ROMANCE: BAD BOY ROMANCE: Basketball Daddy (BWWM Alpha Male Billionaire Pregnancy Romance) (African American Unexpected Pregnant Contemporary Romance)

by Ava Walsh

  Eccentric is one thing, but Mack comes to realize that Oliver is something else entirely. He walks around bare-chested, doesn't shower for days and never picks up after himself. But the longer she stays with him, the more he brings out her own wild side...

  With the threat of the drug lord's vengeance hanging over her, Mack still can't help but wonder–exactly what kind of beast is Oliver Bishop? Does he crave her body the way she craves his? And can they escape the drug lord’s men? Find out now.

  Chapter One

  US Marshal Tom Meyer handed Mack an information packet while the fluorescent lights in his office flickered. "Here's everything you need to know about your new identity, Bertha."

  "Mack," she corrected, for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, taking the packet. It weighed heavy in her hands, almost as heavy as her heart. "I thought that since Gedge got convicted, I could finally go home."

  The past two years had been very difficult for her. Not only had she had to relive the moment when she saw her boss, a kind, elderly man who wouldn't hurt a fly, get shot in the head at point-blank range, but she hadn't been able to see or talk to her family in all that time, either. She missed her life terribly.

  Meyer gave her a sympathetic smile. "You got him put away for murder. A man like Gedge isn't going to just forget that, and he's still got people on the outside. But don't worry. You'll love your new job. Oliver Bishop reached out to us specifically looking for someone in witness protection. He doesn't want a permanent worker."

  Mack flipped through the first few pages of her packet. She skimmed the information about Bishop.

  "We've done a thorough check, and his house the best place to keep you hidden for the next three months until we get you set up in your new life with your new identity. And you're the best qualified to work for him, with your experience with exotic animals."

  "What, does he have his own zoo?" She looked up, her eyes narrowed. "Who is this Oliver Bishop, anyway?"

  "Only the richest person you've never heard of. He owns ten thousand acres of land down in Florida, and he's richer than God. He's a little strange, but I'm sure you and he will get along just fine." Meyer chuckled, as though he actually doubted his words.

  I quit my job at the zoo for a reason, she wanted to say, but bit her tongue.

  After all, arguing with the guy who was meant to keep a crazed drug lord from killing you wasn't a good idea. She still had nightmares about the murder sometimes, and seeing Gedge's hateful expression every time she sat in court, telling lawyers and juries what she had witnessed, always left her shaking and cold.

  She had hoped that now Gedge was in jail, she could go back home to her family and work on her dream of opening an animal rescue center.

  Seems like that dream will never come true.

  "Margret Simmons," she read, reading the name she would have to get used to. In three months it would be hers. She made a face, but it could be worse.

  The only thing she had been looking forward to in this whole mess was having an excuse to get rid of "Bertha" as her first name. She had been named after her mother's mother, and she knew that any attempts to legally change it would have ended in too many tears to bother with. She was satisfied going by her last name most of the time, although her mother still insisted on calling her Bertha. And so did Meyer, for some reason.

  "Am I keeping my name until I get relocated to my new home?"

  Meyer smirked. "You ought to take the time to get used to your new name, but you're going to be so far away from civilization that it won't matter."

  That sounded ominous, but Mack nodded. She tucked the packet into her backpack; it would give her something to read on the trip to Florida.

  To most people, going to Florida for three months free of charge might seem like a dream, but Mack was dreading it. With the heat and humidity there, her hair was going to end up even more unmanageable. It wasn't quite curly and wasn't quite straight. No matter how she cut it or how many styling products she used, it always ended up a bushy mess on top of her head. She was also what her mother deemed 'a big girl' and had always had trouble dealing with high temperatures.

  Mack sighed as she slumped in her chair. "At least I won't have to waitress anymore."

  Meyer stood. "You should go and say goodbye to your family now. We'll set them up with new identities here soon, but until then you can't have any contact with them, understood?"

  This was going to be the hardest part. Mack was very close to her two younger brothers and her parents. An irrational part of her brain wondered how they were going to get along without her for another three months. Which was ridiculous, after how long they had already been getting along without her.

  "After two years of not having any contact, I'll have half an hour to catch up with them before another three months of no contact."

  "They are going to be fine. Gedge won't go after them," Meyer assured her, but that only made Mack's anxiety for her family kick up another notch.

  Still, she put on a brave face as she swung her backpack on and went to say goodbye. She tried not to let herself think that this might be the last time she ever saw them. Who knew what the future held? Hopefully, it's better than the past.

  ***

  Even before they arrived at their destination, Mack knew she was going to hate every second of the three months she spent living here. She was used to the subtle greens and browns of the semi-arid desert she grew up in.

  At least it was a cold day, and even though it was summer, Mack could get away with wearing full-length jeans to help control her thighs and her plump calves. She carried most of her weight from the waist down, and with the right pair of jeans she managed to look decent, but forget shorts, skirts or bathing suits. The highest heels on the planet couldn't save her legs.

  Florida, on the other hand, was all green and wet. She'd be forced into shorts for sure. Breathing felt clogged up and like she was in a sauna. Even with the air conditioning in the US marshal's van going full blast, she thought she might die from the heat.

  Her impression of Florida wasn't helped by the fact that the road they were driving on wasn't really a road. Though it was paved and in excellent condition, there hadn't been a road sign or another vehicle for almost an hour. Trees with giant leaves that Mack didn't know the names of leaned over them, blocking out the sun, and the forest was so dense that there could have been a hundred drug lords just inside the tree line having a tea party, and they'd be completely oblivious.

  "You won't get any cell service out here, so if you need me you'll have to use Bishop's landline," Meyer said eventually. "Cheer up, Bertha—"

  "Mack. My name is Mack. How many times do I have to tell you that?" Mack wiped beads of perspiration from her forehead.

  The heat certainly wasn't helping her mood–not that she was a bucket of sunshine on the best of days. Waitressing had been pure torture with her temper, combined with the people that she served. It was a wonder she hadn't killed someone.

  People in general just bugged her. She didn't have the patience to deal with them.

  "Mack," Meyer repeated, sounding cool and unruffled. "I'm sure you're going to get along fine out here, and it's only for a little while. We'll have you set up in Utah or someplace like that before you know it."

  Utah? Mack made a face but didn't say anything else for fear of snapping. It was odd, but when she worked at the zoo, she could remain cool and calm with the animals, no matter how uncooperative and frustrating they could be. With humans, it only took one wrong glance for her to lose her cool, something she was in serious danger of doing right now.

  At first, she didn't realize when they arrived at her new, temporary home because there was no yard and no driveway. In fact, there was nothing that would indicate that somebody lived here. The trees and brush were just as thick, wild and overgrown as they had been on the road.

  It was only until after Mack stepped from the car–getting hit by a full blast of sticky, wet heat that had sweat stains r
inging her armpits immediately–that she even saw the house.

  Although 'house' wasn't quite the right word for it. It was a mansion, almost a palace. Even though Mack couldn't see just how big it was, the flat roof towered over the trees around it and stretched several meters in each direction. The outside was painted a mottled green, as if the builder wanted it to blend in with its surroundings. It looked sturdy and in good condition, though.

  A map was taped to the front door, and Mack's eyes shot up as she caught a few of the room labels. Swimming pool. Dining hall. Ballroom. Tennis courts. All inside. Just how big was this place?

  Meyer pried the map off the door. "Looks like he's in the atrium. You might want to keep hold of this. It's easy to get lost in this place."

  "How often have you been here?"

  "A couple times."

  Mack folded the map into her pocket, following Meyer as he entered the mansion. To her chagrin, it wasn't any cooler inside than it was outside. All the open windows were probably to blame for that. There weren't even any screens in them. What sort of creepy crawlers was she going to be sharing her new home with?

  Mack shuddered. She liked bugs and rodents as much as any other type of animal, but she certainly didn't want to go to bed and find a snake under her blankets!

  The hallway lead straight to the atrium. Mack gasped when she entered; it was even hotter than the rest of the house! A glass dome curved over their heads, amplifying the sunlight that poured in. Trees and bushes with leaves as broad as Mack was tall were crowded inside. It was certainly unlike the dense forest outside. This felt more like an African jungle than a forest or atrium. Bird calls sounded throughout the room.

  "Hello?" Meyer shouted.

  Mack heard a grunt and looked up to see a face peering down at her from the nearest tree. It was a broad face, with deep eyes and a full mouth. The man swung out of the tree, hanging with one hand before he dropped several feet, making Mack gasp. The man rolled on the ground and leaped lithely to his feet beside her.

  "Hello!" he shouted, throwing massive arms around her.

  A squeal broke from her as the man lifted her from her feet and swung her in a circle, squeezing tightly. When he set her down again, he grinned broadly and stuffed some dark green leaves–spinach maybe–into his mouth. All he wore was a pair of boxers, and he clearly didn't mind the heat.

  "I'm Oliver. You must be my new caretaker. It's so good to meet you!"

  Mack put a hand on her chest to steady herself. Well. That was certainly an unexpected greeting! She managed a small nod in return, willing her heart to stop pounding.

  Oliver Bishop was not what she had expected. His shoulders were substantial, roped with muscles that wound down his arms and ended in hands bigger than Mack's head. His chest was as wide as some of the trees outside. His hips, in contrast, were narrow, tiny in comparison to the rest of him, and his thighs were only half the size of his arms. It was a wonder he didn't fall over with a build like that! Did he bench press in his sleep?

  Mack couldn't help but think that he could easily carry her over his shoulder or hold her against the wall with arms like that, and clamped down on her thoughts before they could stray into the dirty territory.

  It's been three years since my last boyfriend, she reasoned. It was reasonable for her to want to. Stop it!

  Meyer tipped his hat back. "Well, I'm going to head off, then. I'm sure the two of you will get along wonderfully.”

  "She's only staying for three months, remember. I don't want any full-time caretakers," Oliver said, turning to Meyer.

  And giving Mack a full view of his boxer-clad butt. She was surprised at how… bubbly it was. Round and taut, it pushed out behind him.

  She had to clamp her teeth down on her lower lip and avert her eyes. A line of hair ran down his spine. Despite his dark hair and youthful body, these hairs had an almost silver tinge to them.

  "Three months," Meyer agreed. He looked over Oliver's shoulder. "Take care of yourself Ber- Mack. If you need me, my number's in the file."

  Mack nodded, and Meyer walked away. Oliver turned to her and beamed. "This is going to be so much fun!"

  "Yeah." Mack forced a smile onto her face. "Fun."

  Chapter Two

  "And this is the theater." Oliver swung the door open, ushering her into the room with an expression that was positively beaming. He looked so happy that Mack couldn't help but smile back at him.

  Inside the theater, it was cool and dark–unlike the rest of this place. In every other room Oliver had shown her so far, there had been walls of windows open to the outside, and plenty of plants on the inside stacked on every available surface. Many of these were flowering plants, but there were also plenty of others that Oliver would grab a handful of leaves or berries from as he passed. Over the past few hours he had been showing her around, she could count on one hand how many times he had had an empty mouth.

  "I think I'll be spending a lot of time in here," Mack said, enjoying the relatively cool air.

  "You like movies? I like the old, silent films the best. What's your favorite genre?"

  Mack shrugged. "I don't actually really like TV. But it's cool enough in here that I don't feel like I'm going to faint."

  Oliver's happy expression faded into concern. "Are you too hot?"

  The sweat stain down the front of her t-shirt ought to have been enough to indicate that, so Mack just stared back at him.

  "You wouldn't be so hot if you weren't wearing such heavy clothes. Don't you have anything else you can wear?"

  As if she wasn't hot enough, blood rushed to Mack's cheeks. Crap. This was exactly what she was hoping to avoid. "I only have one tank top and one pair of shorts. I don't really like to wear revealing clothing."

  Oliver glanced down at his naked chest. He wasn’t even wearing any shoes. "Am I making you uncomfortable?"

  It wasn't what she expected, but she shrugged, not wanting to offend him. They were stuck together for three months, after all. "Not really."

  "Then why are you concerned about your clothes?"

  She shrugged again, not wanting to point out the obvious to him–her arms and legs were not meant to be shown in public!

  Oliver picked a leaf off a nearby plant. "I like to keep my living space natural. It's your choice to wear what you want, but I'm not closing up my house for air conditioning. Most of my plants would die."

  He plucked a couple of leaves off a bamboo tree next to him and chewed on them, staring at her. She stared back. She could deal with it for three months. Although she might need to cut up some of her clothes to give her a wider selection of what to wear. As long as she stayed hydrated, she ought to be fine.

  "The request you gave the US marshals asked for someone with experience handling exotic animals," she said instead. "Do you have a menagerie or something that I'm to look after?"

  Oliver shook his head, his lips curling back. He had surprisingly large teeth. "No. I don't think animals should have to live in cages, no matter how big they are."

  "Then why am I here? Meyer said you needed a caretaker."

  "To take care of me."

  Mack's jaw dropped. "What?"

  "I tend to live a bit… chaotic. I need you to enforce a strict schedule with me. Food, bathing, making calls. I have a few rather large companies that I'll forget about for several days if I don't have someone reminding me about it. Wake up is at six am, shower at six-thirty, then I need a high-protein breakfast at eight and to make calls to the board of directors of one of my companies. Lunch, high-protein, at noon. Two high-protein snacks at two and four respectively, supper at six. I also need to call my financial advisor once a week, and my lawyers twice a week."

  Mack's jaw was almost to the floor by now. A caretaker for him? He was a grown ass man. If he wanted somebody to help him out with all that, he ought to hire a personal assistant, a maid and a cook. This wasn't what she had signed up for!

  Three months, she reminded herself, gritting her teeth.

/>   "Am I supposed to pick up after you as well?" she asked sarcastically.

  Oliver cocked his head to one side. "Not everywhere. Just clean my room up once in a while and do laundry."

  If she had known this was what was going to be expected of her, she would have pitched a fit and never come in the first place. Which was probably why Meyer hadn’t told her what type of a 'caretaking' position it was.

  "Look, I'm not your mother—"

  Oliver's gaze swept down her briefly and the blood rushing to her face cut her speech off abruptly. "No, you certainly aren't. But that's why you're here. I'll help with laundry, I just don't think to do that sort of thing by myself. When you've got spare time, you can do whatever you want."

  Mack put her hands on her hips, but Oliver continued before she could speak.

  "If you need or want anything at all, I'll have it flown in. I have a helicopter pad on the roof," he added, his eyes lighting up like a child's. "Flying is a lot of fun. I'll take you skydiving sometime soon. Maybe next week."

  "Hold on," Mack interrupted, finally finding her voice again. Her head was spinning. "I'm not going skydiving."

  "But it’s so much fun!"

  Mack shook her head firmly, her mind going back to her list of responsibilities. "And I don't know exactly what you're expecting, but I'm not going to shower or bathe you! Sure, if you want reminders of when to do things I'll give you reminders, and I'll make your meals, but I'm not here to be a sex doll, got it?"

  Oliver's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. "What gave you that idea?"

  Of course. She turned her gaze away. As relieved as she was that he apparently didn't want her to 'caretake' him that way, all of her insecurities rushed in at once. If he was looking for a sex doll, he'd have made sure that his caretaker was stick-thin, not somebody with her thick waist and meaty thighs. It wasn't that she didn’t have a strong body, it just wasn't shaped quite right according to pretty much everybody who had ever commented on it.