by Hamel, B. B.
Possessive Baby Daddy
B B. Hamel
Contents
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1. Klara
2. Shaun
3. Klara
4. Shaun
5. Klara
6. Shaun
7. Klara
8. Shaun
9. Klara
10. Shaun
11. Klara
12. Shaun
13. Klara
14. Shaun
15. Klara
16. Shaun
17. Klara
18. Shaun
19. Klara
20. Shaun
21. Klara
22. Klara
Also by B B. Hamel
Copyright © 2020 by B. B. Hamel
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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1
Klara
I stand in the middle of a bustling film studio thoroughfare and look around for a long moment.
Nothing looks familiar. I go through the directions my dad emailed me earlier in the day again, but there’s nothing helpful there. He mentioned the big red greenish floating sign thing but I’m pretty sure that doesn’t exist. And I don’t see that really obvious, like, glass window thing either, so I’m pretty sure he wrote this high.
Which means I’m lost.
“Oh, god damn it,” I say to myself.
Of course I’m lost. I’m supposed to be in a meeting with a studio executive today to go over the next season of Divas in Space, my father’s smash hit reality TV show about beautiful women training to become astronauts. This year we’re allegedly going to be allowed to send one of them along on a real NASA mission, which sounds insane, but will get great ratings. So my father is all about that.
I push ahead anyway, walking around and feeling stupid. I’m looking for the offices but all I find are more sound stages, more random guys zipping around on gold carts, and more people shooting me dirty looks. Sometimes I hate working in this industry.
Well, mostly I do. Especially working for my dad.
I try calling him, but no luck. I try his phone seven times until I decide to leave him a message.
“Hi, Dad, it’s your daughter. I’m lost because your directions are really, really bad. So I’m wandering around this studio like an idiot, and I swear you better be in that meeting right now, because if we lose this—”
I don’t get to finish. Just as I turn a corner, I smash face-first into a brick wall.
Well, that’s how it feels at least. I stumble backwards, my hand flying up to my nose. “Oh, shit!” I hiss. My phone clatters to the ground.
“Shit, are you okay?”
I stagger back and open my mouth to tell whoever just ran into me to go sit on a flagpole and twirl, but the words die in my mouth.
The man staring at me with real concern in his eyes is gorgeous. I don’t know how else to put it. He’s tall and broad and muscular, with hints of tattoos peeking up at the edges of his crisp, perfectly tailored business suit. His hair is cut short on the sides and pushed back in an effortless, stylish part. He tilts his head and his deep green eyes stare at me like he can’t stop looking and oh, god, I don’t want him to stop.
“I’m…”
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I wasn’t paying attention.” He bends over and grabs my phone. He’s at least a foot taller than me, well into six feet. “Here.”
I take it from him. Fortunately, the call hung up. Either that or I filled up my father’s voicemail inbox with that really embarrassing exchange.
“Uhhh, thanks,” I manage to say.
He smiles at me. Holy shit, he looks even better when he smiles.
“I think that was my fault,” he says. “These studios always get me turned around. I’m like an hour late for a meeting right now.”
I laugh. “I am too. Seriously, I’m so lost.”
“Really? Well, we’re just meant to be together, then. I’m Shaun.”
“Klara.”
“Pretty name.” He tilts his head and his eyes roam down my body. He does it so brazenly, so openly, that I swear he must not give a damn about anything.
It drives me absolutely wild with desire.
“Thanks. My mom picked it.”
“Smart woman. So where are you headed to?”
“Office B-34,” I say. “Wherever that is.”
He frowns. “No kidding?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“That’s where I’m going.” He clears his throat. “I’m looking for B-44 though. What meeting are you going in for?”
“Uh, my father’s production company has this show called Divas in Space, we’re heading in to talk about the second season.”
He barks a laugh, delighted. “I know that show. It’s really good.”
“How about you?”
“Oh, the usual. Looking to option some rights these assholes are hoarding.”
I snort. “Really? Good luck with that.”
“Ah, well, it’s not happening now.” He checks his watch and I can’t help but notice that it’s expensive. In fact, his whole outfit is fashionable and expensive. It’s the sort of suit my father wishes he could afford, let alone pull off like this guy can. “Listen, I’m not finding this place and I’m about to give up. How about you give up with me?”
I arch an eyebrow. “What are you suggesting?”
“Let’s go get lunch. There’s this lunch truck nearby, it’s amazing if you’re into Mexican. We can sit on the beach and pretend like we were productive.”
I laugh a little and stare into his eyes. I know I should find this meeting and sit in on it, make sure my dad isn’t doing something really stupid… but I can’t help myself. I haven’t been asked out on a date by a guy in a really long time, let alone by a guy that looks like him.
“Yeah,” I say. “Okay. Sure. Let’s do it.”
“Great.” He grins at me and starts walking.
I hurry to keep up. “So what do you do?”
“I’m starting a production company.”
“That sounds exciting.”
“Yeah, well, it’s a lot more work than you’d think.”
I laugh at him. “Uh, I know how much work it is. My father owns a reality TV production company called Truth Hurts.”
“Oh, yeah, I knew that. From the Divas show.”
“Right. He has a bunch of other ones too, but Divas is our big hit.”
“Must be fun, right? Producing reality TV?”
I shrug. “I guess. He likes it at least.”
“You don’t?”
I hesitate, not sure how much I want to get into this. “Let’s just say that I would take the company in a different direction.”
He laughs and leads me through a maze of turns before we end up out on the parking lot. I stand there and gaze up at him. “What?” he asks.
“I’m not kidding when I say that I never would’ve found this parking lot again in my entire life.”
He laughs and puts an arm around me. I don’t know this guy at all but he does it so effortlessly that it’s no big deal.
“Fortunately, you’re with me. Now, do you want to take one car?”
“I took an Uber here, so.” I grin at him. “You’re in luck.”
“Actually,
I think you’re the lucky one.” He leads me to a parking spot with a black sports car. It’s a convertible with a big dent in one door. “Here she is.”
“Nice,” I say and laugh. “Cool dent.”
“That dent is special to me,” he says. “Jack Nicholson hit my car with a golf cart when I first moved here. When I yelled at him, he told me to go fuck myself, called me a pussy, and drove off with his middle finger in the air. It was amazing.”
I laugh and nod at him. “Oh, yeah. Nicholson is a dick. Everyone knows it.”
“He was intense. Not gonna lie. I thought I was going to have to fight him.”
“He’s all bark, no bite. Plus, he’s like eighty or something.”
“Still. I don’t want to have to punch a real celebrity, you know?”
I shake my head, still laughing, and climb into his car. He starts the engine and pulls out. We chat about the business, about the people we know in common, and I’m surprised to learn that we run in generally the same circles.
Although I only know these people through my father. I don’t know how this guy has connections. My father built Hard Truth from the ground up over the last thirty years, but Shaun seems like he just flew into LA last week and suddenly knows half the town.
We drive for twenty minutes, mostly sitting in traffic, before we end up out near the beach. He stops at a little rundown food truck and gets out. “Trust me,” he says. “It doesn’t look like much, but it’s good.”
I frown at the chipped paint and the sign hanging on by a single nail. “I don’t know,” I say.
“Trust me.” He grins and tilts his head. “Live a little.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I grumble. “You’re paying my hospital bill if I end up with food poisoning.”
He puts his arm around me again, and again I find myself drawn closer to him. “Klara, if you end up sick, I’ll hold your fucking hair.”
I grin as he leads me to the truck. He orders in barely passable Spanish without asking what I want. The guy grins and disappears for a few minutes before returning with two containers. Shaun takes them, gives me one, and leads me down a path toward the water.
We end up on a bench just off the sand. He takes off his shoes and kicks them aside like they’re nothing, which makes me laugh, then opens his container and digs in.
I follow suit. There are rice and beans, some kind of greenish avocado sauce, fried eggs, chorizo, and tortillas. It’s absolutely amazing and I stare at him for a long moment.
“You should’ve told me this was so good,” I say.
He grins. “I did, you were just too busy judging Jose’s truck.”
“Jose’s truck looks like the set of a murder flick.”
“Yeah okay, fair enough, but his food is fantastic. I keep trying to hire him away, but the guy loves his crappy truck.”
We eat together and talk about the town. It’s strange, how comfortable I feel with this total stranger. I’m not the kind of person to go out to lunch with a man on a total whim like this, especially when that would mean skipping a business meeting.
Really, this feels crazy to me. But I’m angry with my father for giving me bad directions and for being totally unreliable.
“So why were you lost back there at the studio?” he asks me after we finish eating and toss our containers in a nearby trash can.
“My dad can be a little… scattered,” I say.
“Oh, yeah? Was that who you were yelling at on the phone when you ran into me?”
I blush a little. “I mean, uh, yeah.”
He grins. “Thought so.”
“He just gave me the dumbest directions. They made absolutely no sense. And I know he was high again, the asshole.”
“Is that a problem you have often?”
“Unfortunately, yes. Honestly the whole company would shut down if it weren’t for me.”
“Really?” he asks, frowning.
“Look, my dad is good at what he does. He has an eye for talent. But when it comes to the business, he’s just… he thinks it’s still the seventies.”
“I think I know what you mean,” he says. “Your dad likes to party.”
“Right. He thinks a business meeting is an excuse to do coke and order strippers.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “God, that is so not what I’m used to.”
“Welcome to LA.” I frown and look at the waves. “You’d be surprised how many people are like that in this industry.”
“Yeah, I bet.”
“Where are you from originally?”
“A little town out in Virginia,” he says. “At least, that’s where my family lives. I’m from a series of boarding schools and private colleges.”
“Sounds… fun?”
He shrugs. “It wasn’t so bad, really. Was probably better than living at home.”
“Why? Were your parents strict?”
“You could say that.” He frowns and glances away. “I’m from a, uh… particular family.”
“What does that mean?” I ask with a laugh.
He doesn’t smile. “I’m not sure how to say it without sounding like an asshole.”
“Try. Or just sound like an asshole. I already think you’re full of shit.”
He grins at me. “Everyone here is full of shit, my dear. But I’m a little less full than most.”
I arch an eyebrow at him, and although I do believe that, I’m not going to admit it. “So then tell me.”
“We’re wealthy.”
“Ah,” I say. “Wealthy. That means you’re filthy stinking rich.”
“Sort of,” he admits. “But not exactly.”
“You’re like a blue blood, then?”
“That’s… more accurate.” He sighs and stretches. “I hate this conversation. I really do. I tell women how rich I am and they just instantly start trying to get in my pants, you know?”
I laugh as he grins at me. “Oh, god, it must be so hard. I feel so bad for you.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that. Life’s been rough, you know? All this money’s been hard on me.”
“So now I know how you’re starting your own production company, at least.”
He shrugs. “Pretty much. My family is very traditional. I think we need to diversify our holdings a bit.”
“So you came to LA to, what, invest your money?”
“Not exactly. I came to start a production company because I love movies and thought it would be fun. Plus, I’m good at it.”
“How could you possibly know if you’re good at it or not?”
“Educated guess. Well, a strong hunch.”
“You’re definitely full of shit.”
He laughs and takes my hand, pulling me against him. I stumble and look up as he stops walking. His other hand goes along my lower back and moves up into my hair. He takes it and pulls it gently, and even though we’re in public, I don’t stop him.
I don’t think I could even if I tried. My heart’s racing so fast and my skin is practically tingling with need. He looks down at me and smirks. “If I’m so full of shit, why aren’t you running away?” he asks. “Right now, you look like you’re begging for me to take your clothes off.”
“I am not,” I say without any real force.
“And you give me the weakest denial in the world.” He leans toward me, his lips brushing my cheek toward my ear. “Come on, little redhead. Tell me the truth. Do you want me to strip you down right here on this beach on our very first date?”
I push him and he laughs, stepping back. I glare up at him, heart racing. I can feel myself blushing. “Don’t be a dick,” I say. “You were doing so well until right now.”
He steps up toward me again and puts his hands on my hips. “Okay then. How about we try again?”
I gasp as he grabs my hair, softer this time, and tilts my head back. When he kisses me, I don’t push him away. I lean into that kiss, tasting him, drinking him in.
God, he’s incredible.
I feel insane, like I’m losin
g my mind, but I can’t stop it. I want this so badly it hurts. This man, this gorgeous man, and his kiss. Even if we’re in public and there are other people on this beach, I don’t care. I think I’d let him strip me down, right here, right now. Just like he said.
But the kiss breaks off and he smirks at me. “Better?” he asks.
“Better,” I whisper.
We stare at each other for a long moment. His lips are full and his face is covered in just the slightest hint of stubble. He’s beautiful, and the rest of the world slips away as I let myself tumble into those gorgeous eyes.
“Come on,” he says, taking my hand.
“Where are we going?”
“Back to my place,” he says, and tilts his head toward me with a cocky, gorgeous smirk. “I don’t think you’re going to be able to keep your hands to yourself much longer.”
* * *
He lives in a beach house another twenty minutes away. We pull into the driveway and he parks the car, gets out, and heads up the steps. I hurry after him and stop as he opens the front door, grinning at me. “What?” he asks.
“You know what. I drive by these places, but…”
He laughs. “Come on.”
We head inside. His house is enormous and glass, an incredible modern structure built right on the beach. There’s a path along his backyard that takes him right down to the water. Everything is immaculate and expensive, although there isn’t much decoration.
“Sorry it’s so sparse,” he says. “I bought the place a couple months ago and haven’t really spent much time here.”
“You weren’t kidding when you said your family’s rich, were you?”
“No, I really wasn’t. And I said we were wealthy.” He takes a bottle of wine from a cabinet and opens it. “There’s a difference.”