The Rival's Heir

by Joss Wood

  “Babies are barometers, they need to know the adults in the room know what they are doing. You obviously don’t.” He was too tired to take any offense at her sarcasm. If only she knew...

  Darby sat down on the chair, leaned back and eyed Judah. He felt like a bug under the microscope. Suddenly self-conscious, he wished he’d had the time to take a shower, to wash his face, to brush his hair. While Darby looked fresh and sexy and clean, dammit, he felt like he’d been dragged through a pigsty backward.

  She didn’t look impressed, and why should she? But why did he care whether he impressed her or not? And why was he so damn pleased to see her again?

  Pushing aside his fall-at-her-feet gratitude for getting little Jac to stop crying, he admitted those silver-tinged thundercloud eyes enthralled him, and her take-control attitude made his mouth water. He was a driven guy, someone who instantly took control in tense situations and he generally didn’t appreciate anyone muscling in on his turf. Yet Darby’s take-charge attitude was not only refreshing, it was sexy as hell. She was the very last person he expected to knock at his door...

  Which raised a point in his overtired brain. “Why are you here?”

  Darby didn’t waver, she didn’t look away. “I want to work with you, for you.”

  Judah rubbed a hand over his face. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You need a local architect to work with you on the Grantham-Ford project. I want to be that architect. Well?”

  Huh. Darby was not only driven and direct, she was impatient, too. In between Jac’s crying sessions, he’d lobbed a hundred and one things at his business manager, Jonathan, today. Jonno tossed as many back and the local liaison for Boston was way down their list of priorities. They’d get to it, they’d decided, in a day or two. But Darby had beaten them to it.

  He couldn’t employ her. He wanted her, naked and doing very unprofessional and non-architect-related things.

  Man, what a mess. He didn’t play where he worked. Ever.

  Darby lifted her pretty nose. “I want the job.”

  He didn’t like being bossed around, even if it was by a gorgeous blonde with the face of an angel. “In the past two days, I’ve had a maximum of four hours of sleep and I spent the whole of today and the best part of last night dealing with Jac. I’ll tell you the same thing I told my business manager, I’ll get to it when I get to it.”

  She looked both maternal and fierce, a perfect modern woman as she held a baby and kicked ass. “If you’d take the time to look at the designs I submitted, you will notice that my concept was more innovative than those of my competitors. I used modern building techniques, interesting materials, made it eco-friendly. I need—” Judah heard her voice hitch, heard the desperate note as she hesitated. “I deserve that job.”

  Interesting.

  Something told him that Darby Brogan was here because she needed to be, not because she wanted to be. Oh, she probably thought he was a good architect, even a great one, but working with him, having his name on her résumé, wasn’t why she was here...or it wasn’t her primary reason for barging into his hotel room and throwing her demands at his head.

  Somehow, she needed his help. Her desperation seemed more immediate than his name opening doors in a few months or years. Judah wondered if she needed the money the job commanded. Judah skimmed her outfit: designer pants, expensive top, stylish shoes. Discreet but tasteful jewelry. Darby didn’t look like she needed cash.

  “Don’t bother interviewing the other competitors, Judah, just hire me. I’ll work harder for a lot longer, I’ll give you my all.”

  The all he wanted from her involved her hair flowing down her back as he slid into her from behind, holding her breasts in his hands, his big body enveloping hers.

  Judah ran a hand over his face and ordered his body to stand down. He was beyond tired; how could he possibly feel horny?

  And his reaction to her was a very good reason not to hire her.

  Darby shifted to the edge of the seat, her eyes never leaving his face. “I’m not married or involved so I’d be at your beck and call.” Oh, God, don’t say that. “I can give you references, show you other designs—”

  A headache threatened to cleave his brain in two so Judah held up his hand and Darby, thank God, stopped talking. But five seconds later, she opened her mouth to talk again and he shook his head. He wasn’t in a place to make any decisions about any projects or to think about hiring her. He was wickedly attracted to her and that fact complicated everything.

  Before he made any decisions about bringing her into his life and company, he needed at least ten hours of sleep. He had to shut down this conversation before Darby hustled him into giving her a job.

  Under normal circumstances he did the hustling, but nothing about the past thirty-six hours had been normal. Where the hell was Carla?

  “I have a flash drive containing my portfolio—”

  “Shut up, Darby.”

  Darby stopped talking and frowned.

  Judah wanted to smile. He was pretty sure few people spoke to her in an obey-me-now tone of voice. Hell, he was impressed that she’d listened. But he absolutely knew she wouldn’t remain silent for long.

  Right, priority list: hand Jac over, make an appointment to meet with the very sexy—stop thinking of her in those terms, Huntley!—very smart and very determined Darby Brogan. And then sleep.

  Picking up his phone, he dialed Carla’s number. Instead of going straight to voice mail, her phone rang, and relief coursed through his body.

  “Judah?”

  He recognized that voice. Judah frowned, wondering why Carla’s manager was answering her phone. “Luca? Why do you have Carla’s phone? And where the hell is Carla, she should’ve been here already!”

  Judah’s voice rose, and he winced when he saw Darby’s frantic gestures telling him to keep it down so he didn’t wake Jac. Right, waking Jac would be a very bad thing.

  “Are you telling me she’s still in Italy?” Judah swore and gripped the back of his neck. “Okay, I will bring Jac to her.”

  “You can’t, Judah. She can’t care for Jac.”

  Of course, she couldn’t, Carla had the mothering skills of a grasshopper. “She’ll hire a nanny, do what she always does, pass her responsibilities on to someone else,” Judah bitterly replied.

  He shouldn’t have trusted Carla, he should’ve just taken Jac back to Italy in the first place. The best predictor of future behavior? Past behavior.

  “She’s in the hospital, Judah. Her appendix burst and she collapsed.”

  What? No, she was about to storm through that door, and she’d throw a temper tantrum about how much he’d inconvenienced her. He stared at little Jac, frantically praying that he was mishearing Luca’s words.

  “She was rushed straight into surgery and she’s now in ICU. We are waiting for her to come around.”

  “She’s that ill?”

  “No, it’s just a precaution and also because ICU has better security than the general wards. She’s expected to make a full recovery.”

  Judah felt adrenaline surge through his system. “I’ll catch the next plane. Hell, I’ll hire a private jet. We’ll be there by morning.” Judah scrambled to his feet and headed to the bedroom. He was about to pull open the door to the closet to start packing when Luca spoke again.

  “Please don’t, Judah.”

  Judah frowned, tightening his grip of the door to the closet. “And why not?”

  “Judging by the press, you’d think she had a heart attack, not an appendectomy,” Luca grumbled. “Do you think your entrance into the country, with the baby, will go unnoticed? There is so much speculation, so much gossip... We don’t need more.” Luca’s sigh was deep and heavy.

  Crap. Luca was right, the situation was volatile enough without Judah’s presence.

  “I need you
to keep Jacquetta for two weeks, maybe three. Just until the press attention dies down. Before Rossi left with her, we made Carla sign a document stating that she was happy for you to have temporary custody of Jacquetta.” Luca’s next words were another shock. “And you need to keep your brother away, as well!”

  “I haven’t spoken to Jake for eighteen months, Luca, you know that. I don’t know where he is,” Judah retorted.

  “The press is reporting that he is in the area and that he’s been in contact with Carla, but that could just be rumormongering. The last person I need here is her drug-addicted ex-lover.”

  Definitely rumormongering. “Don’t you think you are overreacting? They spent one weekend together, Luca.”

  “Judah, it wasn’t one weekend. Carla was doing an eight-week stint at the Met and you said she could stay at your place while she was in New York. Your brother moved in three days after she did, the week after you left for Sydney. They lived together for three months.”

  It was a blow, but just a sideswipe, not a full-on punch. Did the duration of their affair matter? One weekend? Three months? Judah didn’t think so. Betrayal was betrayal.

  When Judah didn’t speak, Luca spoke again. “I’m asking you to keep Jacquetta, Judah. Please?”

  “Why should I, Luca? Why should I flip my world upside down for her?” Judah demanded.

  “Because you loved Carla once? Because Jac has nowhere else to go for the next two weeks? Because I need to keep that baby out of the limelight and I need you, as her uncle, to help me do that.”

  Crap. “Dammit, Luca. I thought I was done with the drama.”

  Luca managed a small snort. “As long as Carla is in your life, you never will be, my friend.”

  And wasn’t that a solid-gold truth.

  * * *

  Mason, tallying receipts in his head because that was more fun than using a calculator, looked up as the door chime jangled.

  It was four o’clock on a snowy winter’s afternoon and he hadn’t had a customer in over two hours. He’d let his staff go home an hour ago and Mason considered telling the bundle consisting of a heavy coat and a thousand scarves that he was closing but figured he could give out a cup of coffee before he sent the person back into the snow.

  Mason watched as the cap came off first, revealing bright blond hair—hair he’d buried his face in. Blue eyes, pink cheeks, that luscious mouth he’d been—was still—addicted to.

  Callie.

  Mason gripped the edge of the counter, fighting the twin waves of fury and desire. He hadn’t seen or heard from her since New Year’s Eve, nine weeks and two days ago. She hadn’t stepped into his coffee shop. He hadn’t seen her car driving around. He’d noticed that her house was shut up tight.

  He’d been annoyed that evening—competing with a ghost wasn’t any fun—and he’d expected her to run over to his house and apologize. She’d run but in a direction he never expected.

  “Had fun wherever the hell you went?”

  Callie kept her coat on as she walked over to the register, her eyes locked on his. “I did, actually. I went to Thailand, then Bali.”

  “Good for you.” Mason pushed the words out between gritted teeth. “A postcard would’ve been nice. Or, you know, an explanation.”

  “You left that party without a word, you didn’t call. When you didn’t bother to connect with me, I assumed we were done.”

  He’d been angry and annoyed and jealous, but done?

  Oh, hell, no.

  When he heard that she’d left for Southeast Asia, he’d been on the point of caving, going after her. Furious with her, and himself, he’d gone on one or two dates but, because he was an idiot for this woman in front of him, he couldn’t take up even one of the many offers of sex that he’d received.

  He’d been celibate but... He took a closer look at Callie’s eyes and knew something had changed within her. She looked relaxed, confident, assured...

  And Mason somehow knew she’d crossed off another item on her bucket list: sex in the sun. Mason ground his teeth together. He wasn’t going to ask.

  He was not going to ask...

  “Who was he?” he asked.

  “Who was who?”

  He wanted to know what happened in Southeast Asia. Because, God, any fool could see that something had.

  Mason opened his mouth, then shut it. He had no claims on her, had no right to be jealous. There was nothing more between them than hot sex, a raging attraction. He had no hold on Callie. They didn’t owe each other exclusivity. Neither of them wanted commitment.

  They’d made the rules and now he had to play by them.

  Callie placed her hands over his fingers, which were flat on the counter, and Mason felt like she’d plugged him into a power source. God, he’d missed her.

  Callie peered past his shoulder, trying to look into the tiny kitchen behind him. “Who else is here, Mace?” she asked.

  He looked over his shoulder, not quite understanding the question. “Uh...no one?” Why was she asking? What did that have to do with anything?

  “Good.” Callie smiled, lifted her hands to her coat and started to undo the buttons. “So, want to pick up where we left off?”

  Mason barely heard her words because, instead of a sweater and jeans, Callie’s slow striptease revealed a black lacy bra and an equally lacy triangle at the juncture of her thighs. Surely, this could not be happening.

  Mason ground his teeth together again and watched as Callie’s designer coat fell to the floor.

  Black lace lingerie and thigh-high boots.

  Holy, holy crap.

  Mason knew his eyes were bugging out. He could not believe that straitlaced, slightly prudish Callie Brogan was nearly naked in his coffee shop while the snow pelted down outside. Somebody could arrive, somebody might drive past...

  He really didn’t care.

  Mason boosted himself up and over the counter, grabbing Callie’s hand and marching her to the door. He flipped the lock, gave the deserted landscape a quick once-over. The chance of discovery, thanks to the snow, was minimal.

  He wouldn’t make love to her out here but if someone drove past and saw a nearly naked Callie Brogan, in black lace and boots, being kissed within an inch of her life, then it was her own damn fault.

  She should never have left him; she should’ve come back sooner. He wanted to yell at her, kiss her, take her up against the door...

  He never wanted to miss her as much as he had missed her ever again. A life without Callie Brogan in it was a colorless place...

  Callie wound her arms around his neck and brushed her mouth against his. “Kiss me, Mace. I’ve missed you.”

  Five

  Darby placed Jac in her stroller before walking across the penthouse suite to the open door of Judah’s bedroom. Judah stood by the closet, his shoulder pressed into the door, looking utterly played out. Yes, she wanted the job as his local architect and she’d had no intention of leaving until she had his assurance that the job was hers, but right now, he looked shattered.

  Her heart swelled with sympathy. Judah, she suspected, didn’t like surprises and he liked to steer his own ship. Discovering that he had a child he hadn’t known about was a complication that would be totally out of his comfort zone.

  Despite the discussion held in rapid Italian, Darby sensed Jac was staying with him. He was either feeling utterly out of his depth or frustrated beyond belief. Possibly both. With no warning and little thought, Judah’s ex had backed him into a corner. A guy like Judah—strong, alpha, confident—didn’t do corners.

  “Hey.”

  Judah’s head shot up and she saw emotion dancing through his eyes. Fear, sadness, worry. Yep, that conversation had rocked his world. Those eyes, all that ink blue, held confusion and anger and, though he would never admit it, pain.

  His body was drool wo
rthy, and she was in awe of his talent. But her attraction to his mind was what made her earth tilt. This visceral, intense, knee-shaking need to know what drove him, what scared him, what motivated him—it terrified her and made her take a few mental steps back.

  She had a business to bolster, money to earn, a baby to breed. She couldn’t afford to be distracted by a tired hot luscious man whose depths ran deeper than the Mariana Trench.

  “I was expecting Carla to collect Jac but she’s in the hospital,” Judah explained, sounding tired beyond belief. “I’ve got to look after her, take care of her for two weeks.”

  Well, he was Jac’s father. That was what dads did.

  A part of Darby, a big part, hoped that when Judah got over his shock at having a daughter he’d fight to be part of Jac’s life on an ongoing basis, that the little girl would have at least one parent who cared about her. But Judah was a man always on the go, his work had him living from city to city, job to job. She doubted Jac would find any stability with him.

  Darby shook her head, confused. Here she was, someone who would be a good mom and unable to have kids. Yet Carla and Judah didn’t want the beautiful baby they had.

  It was so unfair...

  Familiar with this negative thought process, Darby knew she needed to leave, to find some distance and perspective. Being around Jac made her sad about what she couldn’t have. It didn’t help that she wanted Jac’s dad, too.

  “Okay, well, if you can let me know a suitable time for me to be interviewed...”

  Judah straightened and walked over to her. Darby couldn’t yank her eyes from his. He stopped in front of her, so close she could feel his heat, smell his deodorant, see that he had a tiny scar on the corner of his left eye and another on his chin. His fingers gripped her hips and a tremor skittered through her. If she lifted herself onto her toes, just a little, her mouth would be aligned with his, she would know his taste.

  Don’t do it, Darby. Bad, bad, dreadful idea.

  Judah’s other hand snaked around her back, splaying across the top of her butt as he gently pulled her toward him. Her breasts scraped his chest, her nipples puckering against the lace of her bra. She wanted his mouth there, she realized, shocked. She wanted him tugging on her, trailing his lips across her naval and down to where she was wet and throbbing.