Making His Baby: A Billionaire Romance

by Lulu Pratt

  ***

  “You sure know how to pick a bar,” Eric jokes, taking in our surroundings. The bar is rowdy and teeming with people who just escaped a long day’s work.

  With a grin, I flag down the scantily clad bartender and order two whiskeys, neat.

  “I knew you would fit in here,” I tease. “Underdressed women, cheap beer and plenty of lowlifes. Right up your alley.”

  Then I clap Eric on the back before we dive into a bit of small talk, catching up.

  Eric Mendoza and I were bunkmates during basic training over a decade ago and our sense of kinship had led us to become great friends. The sense of loyalty that grew from friendship had been fostered by our time as SEALs. No matter our differences, we always presented a united front.

  “So, tell me why I’m here again,” Eric cuts to the chase.

  “I need you to look into a guy for me. Real name is Brian Masner but most people call him Brick. All I know is that he sells life insurance in Ravenwood.”

  Eric takes another sip of his beer and eyes me suspiciously.

  “Why do you need me? Can’t you do this on your own?” he asks, knowing we have similar backgrounds in investigative work.

  “Because he hired me a couple weeks ago.”

  “Why are you investigating your client?” he wants to know.

  “I need to know if he’s shady.”

  Eric laughs, obnoxious and loud.

  “Since when has that ever mattered to you? You’re the fucking king of shady.”

  I’m irritated by his words, but only because I know he’s right.

  Before Grace, I would have completed this assignment three weeks ahead of schedule. I should be kissing a fat bonus check right now for my swift turnaround, but instead I’m here.

  “I’ve met the target a few times and something feels off. I wouldn’t feel comfortable turning her over to this guy unless I have solid proof to implicate her.”

  Mendoza’s eyes triple in size as soon as I finish the word her. And I know what’s coming before he even opens his mouth.

  “Holy shit, you’re trying to protect the target.”

  I don’t think about denying it. He’s not entirely wrong. I want to protect Grace until I know for sure. No matter my current field, my predatory instincts always took a backseat to protect those I believed were innocent.

  And this case has brought out the protector within me that I often try to conceal.

  It’s just not making sense. Grace doesn’t seem like the type to pack up her life and start over without good reason. She’s not exactly living a glamorous life in Holly Hill.

  If anything, I think she’s here because it’s safe and she can easily fly under the radar.

  “Are you going to help me out on this?” I ask pointedly.

  I’m none too thrilled to be asking for help on this, especially since it means admitting that Grace has successfully derailed my original plans. I’m not supposed to care about doing the right thing, that’s Mendoza’s role.

  Between the two of us, I’m the bad guy in contrast to his good guy persona. He also has a P.I. firm but everything is on the up and up and it’s a much larger operation than my one-man show. We know our respective lanes and we stay in them without it tainting our friendship or mutual respect.

  Mendoza is the only person I trust to be discreet yet thorough about this. He won’t leave any stone unturned and I need that.

  “Sure,” he shrugs. “But I’d like to meet this chick. She’s done the impossible.”

  “What the fuck are you going on about?” I ask glaring in his direction.

  He’s unfazed by my anger and sporting a knowing smile.

  “I want to meet the woman who was able to break you.”

  “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” I say flagging down the waitress for another round of drinks.

  Mendoza leaves the bar an hour later to head home but we agree to meet up next week and discuss his findings.

  I’m still at the bar, drinking and dealing with the realization of what I could be sacrificing for Grace.

  If I abandon this assignment, I know without a doubt Brick will just hire someone else like me to finish the job and possibly come after me.

  “Can I get you another drink, sweetheart?” the bartender’s husky voice breaks up my thoughts and I look at her over the rim of my glass.

  She’s been annoyingly attentive all evening and it’s only gotten worse since Mendoza left.

  I admire her slim build and simple features. She’s not unattractive. But she isn’t Grace, either.

  Ms. Bartender’s tits are average sized, large enough to palm. And her lips are tinted with red lipstick, while her blonde hair is cut to frame her face.

  But I find her lacking, through no fault of her own.

  Grace isn’t fair competition for any woman.

  Her full tits, tiny waist and round hips are simply perfection.

  Perfection that I shouldn’t be fantasizing about in a bar when a perfectly acceptable woman is willing to fuck me.

  It would be easy enough to take the bartender home and release the sexual frustration I’ve been harboring since I started this case but I won’t do it.

  I have to admit that although I’ve never had Grace, I know Ms. Bartender won’t compare to the real thing.

  “Can I get the check?” I ask after being buried in my thoughts.

  “Sure, honey,” she says, wiping down the bar.

  Moments later when I look at the check I see she’s scribbled her name and number near the bottom.

  With a chuckle, I shake my head and toss cash on top of the piece of paper before walking out.

  ***

  At home, I sit on the edge of my bed scrolling through my phone.

  I contemplate calling Grace but note the time. It’s 1:24 a.m.

  She’s probably sleeping and even I know it would be rude to wake her up for my selfish reasons.

  We haven’t spoken since our meeting on Monday and it’s now Thursday night. Well, Friday morning.

  Still, my dick is in misery after thinking about her all night. The longing is starting to get to me. I need to be buried in Grace soon or I will explode.

  My cock twitches at the play on words.

  I’m in nothing but my boxers since my shower and when I look down I see my penis tenting against the fabric for release.

  Grudgingly, I lower the waistband of my shorts and reach down to fist my shaft.

  Glistening pre-cum is leaking from the tip and I haven’t done anything yet.

  I give a slow, initial stroke and close my eyes as I imagine Grace on her knees in front of me doing the honors. I pictured her saliva slathered along the length, her mouth opened wide to accommodate the thickness.

  My hand moves on its own accord, up and down, the pace quickening as I grow more aroused. With my feet planted firmly on the floor, I expertly jerk off as I settle into the fantasy of her sucking me off before climbing on top to ride me to orgasm.

  Shortly after, I feel my gut tightening and the spasms start surging through every part of me.

  “Ah, fuck Grace!” I shout as I come, white hot spurts of cum hitting my stomach.

  ***

  Thank you for reading the first five chapters of In Deep. Want more? Go to Amazon.com to read the full book. Thank you!

  Overlooked

  (Five-Chapter Preview)

  She’s the closest thing I ever had to a sister

  Our parents are best friends and neighbors.

  We were raised together.

  But one look at her naked body in the window and I’m hard.

  How did I never notice her this way before?

  Too bad she’s forbidden fruit.

  She doesn’t deserve to be in my trail of one-and-done women.

  Plus it would ruin 25 years of friendship between our parents.

  But my body craves her.

  The longer she stands in the window, the less I’m able to resist.


  Screw it.

  *** A steamy STANDALONE contemporary romance with a sizzling hot hero. No cliffhanger, no cheating, and a guaranteed happily-ever-after.***

  CHAPTER ONE

  HARPER POLSEN

  A weird sensation washes over me.

  Everything is the same and everything is different all at the same time.

  On the street that I grew up on, the Petersons finally got around to cutting down the big oak that cast their whole front yard in shade, while the Angelinos put up some kind of weird flag pole. The Kings moved out, I’d heard about that from my mom, and the new people living in their house had repainted.

  I can still almost see the way things looked the last time I’d been in the neighborhood, but at the same time the changes make me look twice to make sure I’m in the right place after all.

  My parents’ house, as I get to it, looks exactly the same as it did when I’d pulled out of the driveway after New Year’s Eve. Brick and mortar, with black trim and a slate roof that my mother had apparently insisted on, the bane of my dad’s existence, and a red door that almost glows in the hazy yellow afternoon light.

  I turn into the driveway and pull up to the garage doors, throwing the car in park, and sit there for a minute. On the other side of my parents’ house, I see the Lewises’ cars on the driveway, and the big flower flag hanging over the entry on their front porch.

  As soon as I get my stuff into my parents’ house, I need to drop by and say hello. After all, the Lewises are why I’m in town in the first place.

  I shut off the engine, and spot my mom coming out of the house to greet me. She’s covered in speckles of paint, and I’m glad I thought to pack some old jeans and Tshirts in my suitcase, along with the nicer clothes I knew I would need for the week I’d be in town. Obviously Mom is helping the Lewises set up everything.

  “You’d better run over next door real quick and say hello to your other mother,” Mom says as I’m climbing out of the car. I laugh and roll my eyes, reaching into the passenger seat to grab my purse.

  “I just drove for hours,” I point out. “She knows that.”

  “It’s her anniversary,” Mom counters.

  “And her husband’s too,” I add, standing up straight again and turning around to face her. Mom hugs me tight and kisses me on either cheek.

  “The drive must not have been too bad,” she observes. “I was expecting you in another hour or so.”

  “I ended up getting out of the city early,” I explain. “I figured if I’m up anyway, I might as well get on the road.”

  Mom rubs my back and I unlock the trunk. “So you’re here for a full week?”

  I nod as I grab my suitcase from the trunk, along with the present I’ve got for the neighbors’ anniversary.

  “Bev was just telling me she expects Zane in tonight, too.”

  “Zane is in town?” I raise an eyebrow at that. I haven’t seen Zane in years, in spite of the fact that we’ve both come back to our parents’ homes dozens of times. Around the time I started my sophomore year of college, he shipped out to the army, and somehow we both managed to miss the other one ever since.

  “He’s not about to miss his parents’ twenty-fifth wedding anniversary,” Mom points out. “Not without a good reason.”

  “I would think ‘the army wouldn’t give me leave’ would be a good reason,” I say.

  “Well, they would, and they did. So he’s flying in tonight from wherever-it-is they have him stationed right now.”

  “Good for them,” I say, shrugging. “It’ll be nice to see Zane again.”

  “The army’s done wonders for him,” Mom tells me as we walk back up to the house. “Before he joined all he did was use his looks to bed half the girls in town. Although it’s easy to see how, he’s such a gorgeous young man.”

  “Mom!” I look at her sharply.

  “It’s fine to look at someone like him, as long as looking is all it is. He’s not exactly boyfriend material.”

  “You’re married, and old enough to be his mother. I don’t know that it is okay for you to be looking.”

  “Sure it is. As long as I never intend to do anything about it, or even try to intend to do anything about it,” Mom tells me cheerfully. “Besides, your dad isn’t even discreet about it when he gives a younger woman the once-over.”

  I feel my cheeks burning and I close my eyes for a moment. I can’t really say why I feel so embarrassed to hear something like this. I mean, my parents obviously have a sex life, and they’re human beings and all that. But it feels weird hearing her talk about the guy I grew up with like he’s someone from a GQ spread or something.

  “They need to fix your hormones,” I say, walking into the house. “You’re turning into a letch.”

  “I am not a letch,” Mom says tartly. “I am simply an older woman who knows what she likes.”

  I roll my eyes at that and start up the stairs to my old room.

  “I’m going back next door, come over when you’re ready to lend a hand,” Mom calls to me.

  “You’re still painting, right?” I look over my shoulder to see Mom nod. “I’ll change into clothes I can get covered in paint, and then come over.”

  I open up my suitcase once I’m in my room, and find my jeans and T-shirt. While I’m getting changed, I look out my window. Across the yard, the blinds are shut in the window directly opposite mine, so I can’t see into it, but I know that by the end of the day Zane will be in there. His parents, like mine, probably kept his bedroom more or less the way it was the day he left home.

  I glance around my own room. Thankfully I had managed to develop some sense of taste by the time I left for New York City, for my then-new and exciting job at the publishing company. I’d last had my parents paint the walls a creamy off-white with a sage-green trim, and the bed that my parents had bought for me was a full-size with a wrought-iron headboard.

  I toss my clothes from the drive into the hamper, and pull my hair back into a ponytail to keep it out of my face. I’m ready to go say hello to the Lewises and throw myself into helping them get ready for all the partying they’re going to do.

  I say a quick hello to my dad out on the back patio on my way over. He’s in the middle of building something. Even if I hadn’t already volunteered to help next door, I had got into the habit when I was a kid of avoiding him when he worked with tools, because Mom didn’t want me to hear him cussing.

  Of course, by now I could probably teach him a few phrases. Living in New York has been educational. I give him a quick peck on the cheek, and make my way across the yard, over the property line to the house next door.

  “There’s my favorite girl!” Bev Lewis spots me even before my own mother does, and she puts down the paintbrush in her hand to give me a hug. She’d always wanted a daughter, but Zane was her only child. Mom had told Bev that she was just as much my mom as my mom was, anyway, and that had stuck.

  I kiss her on the cheek and grin up at her.

  “Happy anniversary, Bev!”

  I give her shoulders an extra squeeze and I give her a kiss on the other cheek.

  “Did your mother tell you Zane is coming tonight?”

  I pull back from Bev, and nod. “She mentioned it. I’m glad he could get leave. God, twenty-five years of being married.” I shake my head in astonishment of that. I haven’t even had a relationship last more than twenty-five weeks.

  “Your father and I are just about there, too,” my mom points out, barely looking up from the trellis she’s painting.

  “And when your anniversary happens, I’ll be just as amazed,” I tell her. “Now, what do you need me to help you with, Bev?”

  “After that long drive here, you’re right on over here to help me out?” Bev shakes her head, still smiling, and gives me a pat on the shoulder. “Just take it easy. Your mom and I are doing more wine drinking than painting at this point.”

  “Just point me to what needs doing, and I’ll get started.”

  I’m
surprised at how good it feels, especially after the long drive from the city, to actually do something. I grab a paintbrush and get to work.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ZANE LEWIS

  It’s almost midnight by the time I pull my rental car up the driveway at my parents’ place and cut off the engine. My flight ended up being delayed a good three hours, and then the airline had to figure out how to reroute me. Next door at the Polsens’ place, there’s a car out on the driveway. I perk up a bit. It’s possible they’ve got some kind of guest, but even more likely that Harper’s in town.

  I get out of the car and grab my bag from the back seat. I figure my parents are probably already in bed, but I hear the front door opening and look up to see Mom standing there. She’s in pajamas, but she grins at me as I walk up to the front porch, and throws her arms around me like it’s been years instead of months since the last time I saw her.

  “Happy anniversary, Mom,” I say, giving her a kiss, and she squeezes me harder.

  “I’m so happy to see you, Zane,” Mom says, hugging me again before she finally lets me into the house.

  “Your father’s already asleep. So if you’re hungry, there’s leftover pot roast in the fridge that I can heat up for you. I bought those chips you like,” Mom says as I put my stuff down. “It’s so good to see you, sweetheart,” she tells me.

  “Good to see you, too, Mom,” I say, grinning at her.

  “Your father’s pretty sure he fixed the problem with the cable reception in here, but if it’s still glitchy, let us know,” Mom says. She hugs me again and I hug her back.

  “Mom, I’m not going to just up and disappear if you don’t keep hugging me,” I tell her.

  She laughs. “I know, I’m just so glad,” she says. “I’m going to go and watch some horrible Lifetime movie, but if you need anything…”

  “If I need anything, I know how and where to get it,” I tell her. “Relax, Mom! I’m not Aunt Tracy.”

  “You certainly aren’t,” Mom agrees. “Thank God she decided to stay at a hotel.”

  I snicker and Mom goes still, looking like she wants to bake an entire batch of cookies or maybe start the pot roast over from scratch for me. Some things never change.