Forbidden: A Stepbrother Secret Baby Romance (15 page)

I say yes. Emily steps out with a smile and leaves us alone. Jax looks at the pile of clothes with an appraising nod. "Is this all?" he asks.

"Yeah, but we only came for one dress so I'm happy to just get that one."

Jax cuts me off with a shake of his head. "I already told you. It's my pleasure."

"I don't know how I'll pay you back for this," I say sheepishly. "I really, really don't like owing people-"

Jax grins. "You owe me nothing. But. If you insist..." Jax shoves his hands in his jean pockets and leans against the wall. "I do have something for you to do.”

I gulp and nod. He makes me nervous just standing there looking at me.

“Tomorrow at the party, if you see my dad try to corner me, come over and fabricate an emergency, okay? Just make sure I'm not ever alone with my dad tomorrow night and we will be more than even."

I shake my head. "That really doesn't seem equal to the cost of all of these clothes." I've been keeping a running total as best I can; I lost count when I passed three thousand dollars on the tags. That was at least five pieces of lingerie ago.

"You keeping my dad away from me is worth about a million dollars, fucking trust me on that." Jax takes one last look around the room. His eyes land on the sexy, sheer, red lace dress that I've tried to hide behind another. "I didn't see you try this one on," he says, walking over and picking up the thin garment. "Did you forget it?"

I blush. "Uh, no, I didn't forget."

Jax's eyes flash. "Can I see it on you?"

I lick my lips nervously. "Okay," I reply, feeling an urging coming from between my thighs. I think about him looking at me. Jax goes to leave the room. "You can stay, actually," I reply. "To save time. Just...turn around." Jax slowly pivots in place and faces the wall.

I peel off my clothes, pop on one of my new, sexy, red bras that matches perfectly with the dress, and slip the tight-fitting garment over my body. There is a nude-colored silk lining with a sheer red lace overlay. At first blush, it appears as though I am naked underneath the lace. "Okay," I announce.

Jax turns and faces me. The look on his face makes me feel like ripping off the dress and having him lick me until I scream.

I have never had a man look at me like this in my entire life. He looks like he wants to swallow me whole. Jax finally looks away. "Wow, Tessa. I- I think that one is going to have to go in the pile. If you like it. Let's add that to the pile. You know. In case you have a date. With. Paul." A look that I can't read appears on his face. It looks like guilt and anger mixed together.

The sound of Paul's name kills any energy I have. This whole night has felt like an unreal bubble suspended outside of time and space. Paul's name brings me crashing back down. I clear my throat. "I’d better go ahead and change," I say.

Jax leaves me standing in the dressing room. I wonder where Paul is and what exactly he is doing right now.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

TESSA

I spend Thanksgiving day playing with Ryan and surreptitiously watching YouTube videos of makeup tutorials. My mother bosses around a cadre of people preparing the house for a party that threatens to be bigger than her wedding. Mid-afternoon, I brave leaving my room and find my way back to the library, hoping to run into Jax. But the door is locked.

I haven't seen him since we returned from our shopping adventure.

I cobble together enough makeup from my purse to concoct an acceptable look. It has been awhile since I've applied anything other than a light coat of mascara and a smear of lip balm.

Satisfied with the evenness of my liquid eyeliner and the smoky eye I improvise, I feed Ryan his dinner. Then I put him in his crib and slip into my navy blue dress. Suddenly, I realize that I don't have any shoes to go with the dress. All I have are snow boots and socks. I don't dare sneak back into my mom's closet. We have the same shoe size but it’s not worth running into her solo. ""Dammit," I mutter, blaming my hormonal brain. How could I have forgotten to pick out shoes?

There is a knock at the door. "Come in," I say, not thinking that it might be my mother and briefly panicking. I look up to see Emily, the woman from Neiman’s. I blink a few times. "Emily?" I ask, wondering if I've fallen asleep and am dreaming again. A luxury department store clerk is standing in my bedroom.

"Hi," she says, holding up three paper shopping bags. "Somebody let me in up front and told me where to find you. You need shoes! Jax called me about two hours ago."

I pinch my arm in disbelief. "I'm sorry, did I just walk into a movie?"

Emily smiles. "Jax is usually on top of things like this." I feel another burn of jealousy as I think of him making over other women. She motions over to the settee at the end of the bed. "You want to try some on?"

I nod and wander over, plopping onto the squashy seat. Emily pulls out ten different shoe boxes with brand names I have only ever read about in magazines. There are endless pairs of stilettos and casual espadrilles and even a pair of black, thigh-high boots with buttons up the side. Even more miraculously, they all fit me perfectly. "You're a regular Cinderella," Emily says, smiling. "So you want to keep them all, then?"

I gape at her. "Oh, no, I couldn't possibly!"

Emily nods knowingly. "Jax told me to ask you, but really you don't have a choice. He ordered me to only take back the ones that you either actively hated or didn't fit you at all. And since every shoe you both love and fits you, that means I'm headed home empty-handed."

I smack my hand on my forehead. "Oh my God, you didn't leave your family to come do this today did you? It's Thanksgiving!" I realize how ridiculous it is for me to remind her. I'm sure she already knows.

She just smiles. "I was well-compensated. Don't cry for me over it or anything. Besides, any excuse to be legitimately late to a family dinner is one that I will gladly grasp." She stands up and dusts off her hands. "Anything else you need?"

I shake my head. "Thank you so, so much."

Emily laughs. "Hey, thank Jax. Happy Thanksgiving, by the way." She's nearly to the door when she stops. "If you don't mind me asking, how long have you and Jax been together?" She looks genuinely curious and only slightly jealous.

I gape at her again. "What? No. Oh. No. I'm his - he's my. He's my stepbrother."

Emily's eyebrows raise ever so slightly but she recovers quickly. "Ah. Well, enjoy tonight. It smells divine downstairs." She disappears as quickly as she arrived. I look at the pile of shoes and pick out a pair of spiky black stilettos with ribbons that lace their way up my ankle. I slip them on. I love the effect they have on my legs. As a bonus, my mother will think they are slutty.

She will just have to get over it.

I take one last look in the mirror and smile. I feel beautiful. I glance at my cell phone screen. I see four missed calls from Paul. I hesitate. He can wait to talk to me as far as I am concerned. There is nothing he can say.

My hand is on the doorknob when my phone rings.

I glance back at it, hoping it's Paul and I can leave him hanging vindictively once again. Then I see that it’s Paul's assistant. I furrow my brow. Curiosity is getting the better of me. I slide my finger across the glass screen. "Hello?"

"Ms. Bennett?" says a timid voice on the other end of the line.

"Speaking. Is this Miranda?"

"Yes," she says. She sounds nervous. "I'm so sorry to bother you on the holiday. It's just. Um, well."

"Yeah?" I ask, irritated now. Coming downstairs late will only result in my mother ripping me to pieces. I don't have the energy for that tonight.

"Well. I just -" Miranda sounds like she's sniffling. My annoyance is taken over suddenly by motherly concern.

"Are you okay?" I ask her. She breaks down into sobs. I know that feeling well; hanging on by a thread until someone asks you how you're doing and you break. "It's okay. Let it out." I walk over to the bed and perch on the edge of it, trying to be patient as I listen to her tears. "Is there someone nearby you can call to be with you?" I ask her tentatively after a minute of her sobs.

"No, no. I'm okay. I'm so sorry. This isn't about me. I shouldn't be upset when you - you're the one that - oh, God." She breaks into fresh tears.

Her words send a fresh panic through me. "Miranda, you can tell me. Please." I go through the list of possible emergencies in my head. It has to be about Paul. Is he hurt? Is he dead? No. Surely his assistant wouldn't be calling me for that. Would she?

She takes a deep breath. "I came into the office today to check in on Mr. Oliver, because he told me that he was going to be here over the holidays. And, well. I saw him - I just. I had to tell you because my dad cheated on my mom and I always said if I had firsthand knowledge of a man, or a woman, really, anyone cheating on their significant other and I had the ability to let the significant other know, I would."

I shake my head to toss out her words, letting them fall on my lap so I can examine them piece by piece.

"Mr. Oliver was having sex with a woman. I. I think it's Tracy. One of the assistants here. I didn't get a great look. They were. Well...you know. He saw me and chased me down. He told me if I told anyone he'd fire me. I can't lose my job. I can't, I can't, I can't! But I had to tell you!" Miranda breaks down again.

I pick up her words with my hands and turn them over, trying to sort them into piles that I can understand. "I'm sorry. I'm going to need for you to tell me that again, please. I'm not certain I understood you. Mr. Ol-my boyfriend. My boyfriend was having sex with another woman? In his office? Right now? Today. Just now. While I am trying to survive a week with my mother and our six-month-old baby."

Miranda manages to take a few shaky breaths. "Yes. Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry to tell you it, I just couldn't say nothing. I had to call you and let you know. If it were me, I'd want to know. That's all I'm saying. Because like I said, my dad -" And the tears roll forth again. I'm starting to worry she's going to dehydrate.

I soon find myself comforting her. I thank her as my vision feels like it is going black. I hang up the phone. I look down at her words and scoop them up and discard them. I stand up, brush some lint off of my dress and head downstairs.

I can do this.

I can do anything.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

JAX

"Jax, I'd love for you to meet Angela," Cassie says to me in a mock-cheerful voice. I stare at Angela, a whip-thin woman with fake tits and bleached blonde hair. She looks easily eight years younger than I am. Her voice sets my teeth on edge.

"Hiiii! I'm Angela?" she half-shrieks in a baby voice with a completely unnecessary inflection at the end like she's asking me her name. An involuntary shudder goes through my body.

I've had enough drinks at this point that my disinterest is hard to hide. "Is your name Angela? You seem unsure," I reply sarcastically. Her fake smile evaporates from her face so quickly it's a little disconcerting.

Cassie looks like she's going to strangle me. She pulls it together in time so when Angela turns to her for help, Cassie’s back to a plastered-on smile. Cassie grabs my arm, her red, long, manicured talons digging into my flesh. I can feel the sharpness through the weave of my shirt. "Angela, you'll have to excuse us for a moment," she says. Angela looks crestfallen as Cassie drags me with surprising energy into the corner of the room.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she snaps.

"Christ, it's a billon degrees in here," I reply as a non-sequitur. I jab my hand into the stiff, starched collar of my button down shirt and loosen my tie. I look over and realize that the fireplace is on and roaring.

It’s Thanksgiving in Southern California, but it’s all about appearances. Of-fucking-course. Happy, holiday family gatherings call for a roaring fire.

Cassie leans forward toward my mouth, standing on her tiptoes like she's trying to kiss me. I try to jerk my face away and nearly fall into the Christmas tree. I realize too late that she's attempting to smell my breath. "How many drinks have you had already? Jax, you need to get your shit together tonight. Your father and I are expecting you to at least pretend to be interested in one of these women here. A woman who is not your stepsister." She says these last words with such incising, hissing venom I'm surprised that I don't see two fangs come out of her mouth.

I decide the best tactic is to say nothing. Then I realize Cassie won't leave until I do. "I think what Tessa and I decide to do is between us."

Her eyes narrow into slits. "Your father will be over here shortly. I suggest that he doesn't have to work to find you. Understood?"

"You're not my mother," I spit at her.

Cassie looks like I slapped her. She recovers quickly, though. "That's right. But I am Tessa's mother. And you will leave her alone."

I give her a curt nod as she marches away from me. I know my father will be hunting for me tonight, but having a warning makes it even worse. This means his machinations are more premeditated than usual. I absent-mindedly lift my glass to my lips and come up empty. Shit. I stare across the room at the bartender. He's so far away. I triangulate the distance between Cassie, my father, and the drink bar. I think I can make it if I hurry. I'm halfway across the room when a hand grabs the back of my jacket.

"Jax?" whispers a feminine voice.

Oh fuck. I know that voice. Chills go down my body. They are a mixture of physical longing and absolute dread.

What the hell has my dad done?

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

TESSA

"Drink," I say, walking over to the pimply-faced bartender set up in the corner of the living room. I'm happy to see it isn't Mr. Judgmental Sommelier from the wedding. My mother has bucked family tradition by having her staff put up Christmas trees inexplicably early. They are decorated with raffia and small, painted gourds with white lights twinkling from within the deepest depths of the trees. The room smells of pine and cinnamon.