Secret Daddy

by James, Bianca

  Secret Daddy

  Call Me Daddy – Book 1

  Bianca James

  About the Author

  I write wickedly hot, steamy romance stories that will leave you gasping. Yes, they are a little over the top, but there’s nothing like a quick, dirty read about an alpha male or a sinful, forbidden relationship to spice up the day, is there? If you like your romance scorching hot and very, very naughty, then my stories are for you!

  Join my readers group to be notified of special offers and hot new releases.

  Copyright © 2018 Bianca James. All rights reserved.

  Chapter 1

  I totally felt like a famous movie star and to be honest, I think I looked like one, too. The top was down so the wind could breeze through my long blonde hair and to complete the look, I was wearing the biggest pair of designer sunglasses money could buy. OK, the biggest pair of designer sunglasses my Mom’s money could buy, but you get the picture. I could have been a Hollywood movie star on vacation in Monaco in the sixties. But I wasn’t in the sixties and I wasn’t a Hollywood movie star. And while we’re at it, I wasn’t in Monaco, either. I was on a soulless, concrete L.A. freeway, cruising down to Santa Monica in my beat up VW Cabrio heading for my Mom’s wedding.

  My mom was marrying Gerry. I call him ‘Gerry the dentist’ but he hates it when I call him that. Apparently, he’s a Prosthodontist, like that’s not just some fancy-pants way of saying dentist. He’s the guy who makes new teeth for hockey and football stars when they take a hit and lose a tooth or two. Denture maker to the stars, way to go Gerry!

  Did I mention Gerry was as older than dirt? I really don’t know what mom sees in him but to me he looks more like Clint Eastwood’s age than her age. Yuk!

  Apparently, Gerry has a son who’s quite a lot older than me. I’ve never met him, though, because he works in some kind of merchant bank in Europe and travels a lot. Knowing Gerry and knowing a few banker types that mom’s dated in the past, I’m guessing Brandon, that’s Gerry’s son, is going to be a total bore. If the whole wedding thing isn’t going to be enough of a drag, now I have to make polite conversation with a boring, stuffy banker.

  Shoot me now.

  It wasn’t all doom and gloom, though. Who could say no to an upmarket resort, all expenses paid at a high class hotel and lots of swimming pools to choose from in an upmarket hotel resort? There were a few upsides to having to sit through yet another of mom’s weddings and trying to make small talk with strangers.

  “You must be Chelsea.” I heard an unfamiliar voice from behind as the hotel clerk slid the keycard toward me.

  “Ah…yes...and you are?” I said, turning around only to be confronted by an impeccably dressed and dashingly handsome mature gentleman I’d ever seen. He looked like he’d just stepped out of an episode of Suits.

  “Brandon.” He smiled. “We’re about to become family,” he said as he offered his hand.

  He was taller than me so I had to look up to see his face. He was positively yummy. Not at all what I was expecting for a snooty banker. And he didn’t look that old.

  I shook his hand. “Hi Brandon. How did you know who I was?”

  “That was easy. Dad told me that you were a gorgeous blonde who reminded him of Stacey, a girl I dated for a long time in college. As soon as I saw you, I knew it was you.”

  “What happened with you, two?”

  I can’t believe I asked that.

  “I landed a job with an international bank based in Germany and she...well to be honest I don’t know what happened to her.”

  “Sorry, I shouldn’t be so nosey. I’ve got no filter between my brain and my mouth. Sometimes I’m as surprised as everybody else at what comes blurting out of my mouth.”

  “That’s alright. It’s ancient history,” he said, waving his hand as if she were nothing but a vague memory. “Can I take your bag?”

  “That’s OK. I can manage, but thanks for the offer. I can’t remember the last time someone offered to carry my bag. Is that a European thing?”

  “Hardly. I think it’s a universal thing when a gentleman offers to help a beautiful lady with her luggage.”

  Beautiful lady? I felt my cheeks flush crimson.

  “Let me at least see you to your room.” He made his way toward the elevator without waiting for me to reply and without as much as a backward glance.

  Confident much?

  That’s not how I roll, so I waited a few moments. Just long enough to let him know I wasn’t following him because he wanted me to but because I was ready to go to my room. As I approached the elevator, the doors slid open and Brandon stood aside, gesturing for me to enter first. I’ll give him credit, though, he’s one smooth operator, that’s for sure.

  An awkward silence filled the elevator car as it hummed toward my floor. In a few days, we were going to be related by marriage, yet I knew nothing about my future stepbrother. Alright, I knew he was dashingly handsome, athletically built, seemingly well off financially and extremely confident. Maybe even a little cocky. I glanced to my left to see if he was looking at me. He wasn’t, well he wasn’t until he turned his head and I saw the big shit eating grin on his face as he caught me out.

  “Checking me out, are you?” he asked smugly.

  “Eeew! You’re almost my brother—”

  “Stepbrother,” he corrected me hastily. Almost too hastily.

  “And nearly old enough to be my—”

  “Don’t even go there,” he snapped, cutting me off before I’d even finished my sentence.

  “Whatever.” I rolled my eyes and resumed watching the floor numbers tick over on the display. I swear I’ve seen glaciers move faster. There I was, trapped inside a metal box with my future stepbrother thinking I’m into him. Talk about awkward.

  Finally, after what seemed like an hour, the elevator dinged at my floor and I bolted for the door.

  “Thanks, I’ve got it from here,” I said as I raced out of the elevator and took a hard left to follow the hallway to my room.

  Oh crap! I took the corner way too sharp and my little Samsonite spinner wedged itself in the doorway. The more I struggled to free it and pull it behind me, the more determined it seemed to remain firmly snagged. The door opening and closing on it wasn’t helping, either.

  “Sometimes it’s quicker to slow down,” Brandon suggested calmly in a silky smooth voice after he stepped out of the elevator and casually maneuvered the case free of the door. Meanwhile, I just stood there feeling more stupid by the second.

  “There’s no need to be so patronizing,” I said more loudly and a lot more sharply than I meant to. Then I practically bolted down the hallway, eager to find my room and hide there for the next … well, forever, really. My new stepbrother, my new drop-dead-gorgeous stepbrother thinks I’m checking him out and he thinks I’m a total idiot.

  Way to make a great first impression, Chelsea.

  The stupid keycard didn’t work, either, just to make things worse. I shoved it in and pulled it out half a dozen times. I was getting frustrated and just needed to get into my room. The faster I could get the keycard in and out, the better, I figured. Each time the annoying little red light would glow and taunt me. Now I was locked out of my room.

  A firm hand closed over mine and smoothly guided the keycard into the slot, paused a beat then removed it, maintaining a reassuring grip on my hand, even after the lock clicked open and the green light lit up cheerily.

  “Like I said, sometimes it’s quicker to slow down.” I felt Brandon’s warm breath on the nape of my neck as he spoke. His thighs brushed against my butt as he released my hand and stepped back.

  My legs turned to jelly.

  He touched me.

  And I liked it!

  I felt awkward. Emba
rrassed, maybe even a little ashamed. My mom was about to marry his dad. And he was so much older than me.

  He shouldn’t be touching me

  I shouldn’t be enjoying him touching me.

  I knew that. But still…

  Chapter 2

  “How did you do that?” I asked trying to sound like it wasn’t a big deal, him touching me like that.

  “Slow is smooth and smooth is fast,” he replied cryptically.

  I cocked my head. I had no idea what he just said. He could have said anything he liked so long as he didn’t let go of my hand.

  “If you pull the card out too quick, the reader doesn’t have time to download the code from the magnetic strip, so it blinks red and doesn’t unlock.”

  “And you know all this … how?” I quizzed.

  “I’ve spent nearly my entire working life travelling between cities working on one deal after another. You pick up a thing or two when you spend that much time in hotels.”

  “I just bet you do,” I sneered. I didn’t mean for my words to drip with sarcasm like that. I imagined that the things he picked up around the world were women. One in each city. Maybe more than one. Why did that thought make me seethe with jealousy?

  Damn filter.

  “Ouch!” He feigned pain at my barbed comment and released my hand to place his palm over his heart. “That’s the filter thing, right?”

  I had no response to that. I figured every time I opened my mouth it dug me into a deeper hole, so I kept my mouth shut.

  “Do you want to come in and see if there’s something in the mini bar to drink?” I asked.

  The voice sounded like mine, but it couldn’t have been. I’m not the kind of girl who does that.

  “I’d love to, but right now,” he pulled back his cuff to look at his watch, “I have to get to a meeting. I promised Dad I’d help him with some investments and I’m meeting a broker.”

  He turned to make his way back to the elevator. My heart sank just a little. As irksome as he was, I was kind of drawn to him. Alright, I was totally drawn to him.

  As I was about to step across the threshold into my room, he looked over his shoulder and called out, “Dinner tonight. Seven thirty. I’ll see you at the bar downstairs.” Then he was gone.

  I stepped into the room, my trusty spinner case trailing behind me.

  I leaned back on the closed door and smiled.

  What do you wear to dinner when you’re going out with your future stepbrother? If it was an actual date, I would have gone with the shortest, tightest ‘little black dress’ I could find in my case and the sexy, strappy heels I’d packed, just in case.

  But this was Brandon, so I played safe and went for a short, but not too clingy black dress and a nice pair of mid-heel sandals that worked well with the dress. I’d road tested the outfit at a few clubs and I knew it was a head turner without screaming ‘trampy-trailer-park-slut’. Then I looked at my nails. Chipped and scrappy. They wouldn’t do at all, so I grabbed my cosmetic case and went to work. Lots do to and not much time if I was going to impress.

  Do I really want to impress him?

  Before long, I had rolled up tissues between my toes and had applied the first coat of lacquer to my finger and toenails. Matching colors of course. In between coats I set about brushing my hair to a silky luster. I wanted to look my best.

  An hour later, a record for me, I was dressed and ready to head down to the bar. I grabbed my black clutch, scooped up my keycard and phone and I was set to impress.

  “Can I fix you a drink?” asked the bartender who’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head when my skirt rode up as I sat on the barstool and crossed my legs.

  “No thanks. I’m waiting for someone,” I replied.

  The bartender gave me that ‘who’s the lucky guy look’ and moved to the other end of the bar and began to polish glasses.

  “Wow! Look at you,” Brandon said as soon as he saw me. “Aren’t you looking just stunning.”

  I blushed at his words. Yet again.

  Ohmygod! I’m a smitten schoolgirl. Get a grip, Chelsea.

  I struggled for something to say to alleviate the awkward moment as he looked me up and down.

  Brandon was lost for words too as he couldn’t take his eyes off my long, tanned, bare legs and his gaze followed them all the way down to my shiny painted toenails. When he looked up at my hands, which were resting on my thighs, I could see that he noticed they were the same shade of nail polish. He had an eye for detail, that’s for sure. Without even saying anything, he’d shown me that he noticed the effort I’d made. He was the kind of guy who knew what women liked and appreciated. I could tell that about him already. I like that. A lot.

  “Why aren’t you staying up at the house?” he asked to break the impasse.

  “Same reason as you, I suspect. Way too much going on up there with all the wedding preparation and the high anxiety levels that goes with it.”

  He nodded in agreement. “Let’s drink to that. It gives us a chance to get to know each other without people flustering around.” He raised his hand to signal the bartender.

  As he made his way toward us, I could see him giving Brandon the ‘so you’re the lucky guy’ look before glancing at me. I saw a glint of approval in his eyes. Yes, my future stepbrother was one nice piece of man-candy, that’s for sure.

  Only the few errant strands of grey hair at his temples gave a clue to his true age. I’m quite sure he was older than his smooth, tanned face would suggest.

  The suit he wore was filled with his broad and powerful looking shoulders, like a football player, but not as disproportionate. Maybe he was a lacrosse player in college. Either way, he had a strong and protective look about him.

  “Two gin and tonics, please,” he ordered.

  “And for the lady?” I asked Brandon, quirking one eyebrow in the process.

  “Sorry. I didn’t even think to ask. The European women like it when I take charge and order for them. What would you like?” He looked sheepish.

  I looked straight at the bartender without missing a beat. “Gin and tonic for me, thank you. With a wedge of lime.”

  Brandon stared at me with a hard expression on his face. Then he cracked a smile. He knew I’d played him. And won.

  “Did you know they had a terrific pool here?” I asked to fill the void while we waited for our drinks.

  “I didn’t.” He shook his head. “My assistant booked the room. I had no idea where I’d be staying. You like swimming?”

  “I like sitting by the water and taking in the rays and the scenery,” I replied.

  “I can imagine you being a nice piece of scenery yourself.” He winked and smiled as he said it.

  “Are you flirting with me, brother-to-be?” I slapped his arm playfully.

  “Stepbrother,” he corrected.

  The look on his face as he looked me over told me he was imagining me in a swimsuit. There was no mistaking that look.

  I could feel a warmth building between my legs and squirmed slightly to adjust my dress. That seemed to draw Brandon’s attention to my bare, crossed thighs and I swear he licked his lips as some wicked thought went through his head.

  Chapter 3

  “How was your meeting?” I asked Brandon as he cut his steak and examined it to ensure it was as he ordered it. Medium rare.

  “Nothing challenging. I manage multi million Euro accounts for corporate clients every day. Shuffling a few hundred grand around for Dad isn’t particularly challenging, but it has to be done, nonetheless.”

  My jaw dropped. “How many Euro?”

  “It’s just numbers on a computer screen. It’s not nearly as exciting as it sounds. Trust me. But it’s what I do. Speaking of which, what do you do?”

  “Two tenths of bugger all, right now. I’m living off mom’s generosity at the moment while I work out what I’m going to do. I was in college but liberal arts wasn’t really doing it for me, if you know what I mean.”

  “I don’
t think that does it for anybody, does it? I felt my eyes glaze over as soon as you said it.” He laughed.

  I liked his laugh. It was honest and sincere, not the forced kind of laugh many people put on when they don’t really believe something is actually funny.

  I turned my attention to my delicious cumin and chili crusted snapper while Brandon did his ‘boy thing’ and poured some more wine. We made more small talk and I found myself wishing more and more that we weren’t about to become related.

  Before I knew it, he was offering to walk me to my room. Again.

  His warm breath against the bare skin of my neck was too much to bear. Any effort I might have made to shield myself from Brandon’s advances had long since been put aside. His charm, strong, athletic body and intelligent mind were a lethal mix. I simply couldn’t resist him. I think the gin and tonic and a few glasses of wine may have played a role in my lack of resistance, too.

  When he offered to walk me to my room, I knew exactly where things were heading. His body language and the way he had looked at me all evening over dinner left no doubt as to his intentions. As I fumbled for the keycard in my clutch, his hands wrapping around my waist and his lips lightly touching my neck came as no surprise. And I liked how it felt. I liked how it made me feel. Valued. Desired. Hungered for. There’s nothing wrong with that, right?

  I finally managed to open the door with nervous and unsteady hands, then he closed it quickly as he entered behind me. Turning, I faced him, not confident enough to make the next move, but confident enough to move close to him and await his advances. Sure, it may have been a bit forward and I felt a touch embarrassed at being so out of practice. After all, it’s not every day that you get to have an intelligent, impossibly handsome gentleman in your hotel room all to yourself.

  Taking my face delicately in his large, strong hands, his lips moved towards mine and he kissed me slowly and tentatively. He was holding back, trying to hide his hunger for me. But I felt it smoldering below the surface. I felt the passion building within him as surely as I felt the heat rising from my panties.