Inheriting His Secret Christmas Baby (9 page)

He brought his hands up, cupping her face and deepening the kiss. Running his tongue along the seam of her mouth, he urged her to open for him. When she did, he delved in, groaning at the explosion of sensation that rocked him.

Why did this feel so good? So right?

Haylie was not the first pretty girl he’d ever kissed. Far from it; he’d been with dozens—dare he say hundreds?—of women.

She wasn’t even his type. Oh, he liked blondes well enough—as well as brunettes, redheads and everything in between. But where he normally didn’t give much thought to a woman’s hair one way or another, he had to admit that hers was spectacular, all honey highlights, like a ray of sunshine trapped inside a glass jar.

She was tall enough, about five-five to his six foot two. Slightly shorter than his usual arm candy preferences, but the top of her head came to his chin, which he thought was pretty much perfect. He liked looking down at her, and the idea of having her fit against him just right when he tucked her close.

Her fuller, more rounded figure was also an unexpected turn-on. He was used to the stick-thin model sort…high heels, high hair and size-zero bodies squeezed into belts that doubled as dresses that barely covered their rear ends.

And always before, that had gotten his motor running. Or maybe he’d simply had it in his head that those were the type of women he was supposed to be with—super-photogenic party girls who enjoyed being seen with a Jarrod heir almost as much as they enjoyed actually being with him as a man.

But therein lay the difference: They were girls and Haylie was a woman.

Haylie possessed none of the qualities he normally looked for in the opposite sex, yet he loved the feel of her soft curves pressed against his harder frame. Loved the way she looked and smelled and let him ravish her mouth without pulling away.

Threading his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck, he let his other hand stroke down the side of her throat, the curve of her breast, her waist. Then he reached the hem of her shirt, tunneling beneath to touch warm, smooth skin. A low, primal groan rolled up from his diaphragm, and he leaned closer, deepening the kiss.

This wasn’t what he’d intended when he’d first decided to taste her. He’d only wanted a tiny nibble, something to satisfy his curiosity and maybe put her a little off guard.

Instead, it felt as though a brushfire had broken out just under his skin. Pinpricks of heat and sensation that urged him to keep going.

Forget about the just a taste thing. Forget about a quick kiss to assuage his interest. He wanted to lift her onto the counter right then and there and have his way with her. Wanted to pick her up and carry her upstairs to his bedroom where he could undress her slowly, lay her out on the satin sheets covering his king-size mattress and explore every inch of her luscious body. Slowly.

He wondered what Haylie would think of the erotic images suddenly flitting through his mind. She certainly hadn’t pulled away when he’d told her he was going to kiss her. And since she still wasn’t resisting—was in fact kissing him back with a passion and fervor that had his blood heading due south at a rapid pace—he thought there was a chance she might be willing to act out a few of them.

A scratchy, whimpering sound reached his ears, and he wondered if it originated from his own throat or from hers. But when it came again, even more persistently and from across the room, he knew neither of them was the source of the strange noise. Something else was.

When Haylie cocked her head and pulled away, he knew he was right. He also had the satisfaction of seeing that her eyes were glazed and she was breathing hard.

A second later, before he had time to really enjoy it, she whispered “Bradley,” and slipped past him before he had a chance to react. He watched in confused silence as she darted out of the kitchen and up the stairs, belatedly realizing that the scratchy whimper that had interrupted one of the best kisses of his life had come from the baby monitor in the living room.

Trevor couldn’t say he was thrilled with this turn of events, but in an odd way, he was amused. Having the four-month-old ruin a perfectly good kiss that may very well have led to even more intimacies was his very first experience with fatherhood. And if Bradley turned out to be his son, it was something he should probably get used to.

The week and a half following “The Kiss,” as Haylie had come to think of it, was a busy one. Partly because she really did have a million and one things to do to keep up with Erica’s wedding plans, and partly because she was actively avoiding Trevor.

Unfortunately, making a point to avoid him physically didn’t mean she could do the same mentally.

For some strange reason, he seemed to be deeply embedded in her brain. Whether she was on the phone ordering flowers and linens, or running around the Ridge trying to organize people and plans and locations, there was always a moment when his face or voice or the memory of his seductive cologne would pop into her head.

She blamed it on “The Kiss.” Before that, she might have found him attractive, but not distracting.

The Kiss… Boy, howdy, had anything ever curled her toes like that before?

Sure, she’d been feeling mellow from the delicious meal he’d prepared for her and the exceptional bottle of wine they’d shared. And she could admit to more than a bit of curiosity, too. He’d told her in that low, mesmerizing voice of his that he was going to kiss her, and her inner fairy-tale princess had gone aflutter, thinking, “Yes, please.” After all, one little kiss had never hurt anybody.

But that kiss had been about as far from a fairy tale as one could get. Oh, no. Fairy tales were sweet and soft and romantic, while what she’d experienced at Trevor’s hands had been closer to a scene from a disaster movie. Oceans churning, volcanoes erupting, palm trees being whipped to and fro under gale-force winds.

The minute his lips had touched hers, the world as she knew it had ceased to exist. If it hadn’t been for Bradley’s sleepy whimpers echoing from the baby monitor, and the well-honed maternal instincts she’d developed over the past months that wouldn’t allow her to ignore his needs, she would probably still be propped up against the kitchen counter, wearing Trevor like a warm fleece blanket. Letting him kiss her stupid…and oh, so much more.

She was very much afraid that if the opportunity presented itself again, they wouldn’t stop at just a kiss, which was why she was determined to keep her distance.

In the mornings, she made sure to be dressed and ready and to have Bradley with her from the time she left the guest room, because she knew Trevor wouldn’t make a move while she had the baby in her arms.

During the day, she stayed busy, busy, busy, whether she was working from Trevor’s home office—which he’d generously let her take over—or running errands both around the resort and in downtown Aspen.

Evenings, though…those were tough. Even if all she wanted to do was put Bradley down for the night, then soak for a couple hours in a hot bubble bath, or fix a nice dinner for one and put her feet up while she watched a bit of TV, more often than not she found herself taking food to her room and hiding out there until she was sure Trevor had gone to bed.

Though the house was large and spacious, there was too much danger of running into him, too much chance of dim lighting and sleepy brain cells telling her it wasn’t a bad idea to kiss him again, after all. Kiss him and touch him and let him take her to his bed.

Oh, no. She most definitely had to stay away from Trevor Jarrod. Although she was starting to understand how her sister had fallen for him so quickly. They might have shared only a less-than-memorable—at least on his part—one-night stand, but Haylie could see how his handsome features and charming personality would sweep any woman off her feet.

Pushing through the front door, she kicked it closed behind her, juggling the baby and her bags until she could unload some of them. It had been another busy day, but thanks to the Ridge’s day-care center and the completely over-the-top, champagne-colored four-wheel-drive Cadillac Escalade Trevor had gotten for her to tool around in, things were going very smoothly indeed.

The first time she’d been behind the wheel, she’d felt completely ridiculous. It was like driving a tractor trailer. And she knew how much something like that cost—more than she could afford, and more than someone like Trevor should be spending on someone like her.

But as usual, he’d been resolute. Hidden the keys to her car, she suspected, since she hadn’t been able to find them since the Escalade had been delivered. And she had to admit, it was a nice ride. Comfortable and much safer than her little sedan, she supposed, for both Bradley and herself.

So with Erica’s help, she had menus completed for both the rehearsal dinner and wedding reception…rooms reserved…flowers ordered…linens, silverware, and glassware lined up… Invitations had gone out the week before to the small group of guests Erica and Christian had decided to include in their special day—mostly family and a few close friends—and RSVPs were already flooding in.

All in all, she was very proud of the progress they’d made in such a short amount of time. Of course, she suspected that as soon as the happy couple left the reception for their honeymoon, she would crash and burn, sleeping for a month straight.

In fact, just last week, when Erica has insisted she take an afternoon to relax and enjoy a full spa day with her, she’d fallen asleep on the table during her massage. Erica and Trevor’s sister Melissa, as well as their brothers’ significant others, Sabrina, Samantha and Avery, had all joined them. It had been a Girls’ Day of sorts, something Haylie didn’t get to experience very often given her hectic schedule and, yes, lack of close female friends back in Denver.

The women had kept up a constant stream of chatter and laughter, and though she’d managed to stay awake during their manicures, pedicures and cucumber face wraps, Haylie had simply drifted off during the massage. Not surprising, considering how amazingly relaxing it had been, but still.

She had to admit that it had been both fun and informative to meet so many other members of the Jarrod clan. In addition to being gracious and friendly, they’d treated her just like “one of the girls,” and she’d genuinely enjoyed herself.

As curious as she knew they must be about her sudden appearance in Aspen and her living arrangements with Trevor, they hadn’t asked a single awkward question or given her even one piece of unsolicited advice about Erica’s wedding. Something she had definitely been on guard about from the very beginning.

Dropping some of her things near the oak-and-marble island with a tired sigh, she started to shrug out of her heavy winter coat while simultaneously loosening Bradley’s warm snowsuit.

“Hey.”

Trevor’s low voice startled her, and she jerked around to find him coming down the stairs. As usual when at home, he was dressed in jeans and a thick sweater. Today’s choice was khaki-green and did amazing things for both his chest and eyes.

Not that she had any business noticing the mouth-watering appeal of either.

“Hi,” she greeted him, still tugging and unzipping.

Moving through the house’s open-design living area, he crossed to the kitchen and took Bradley right out of her arms. “Here, let me.”

For a second, she froze, used to doing pretty much everything herself, and unused to having assistance with much of anything, especially the baby.

No, that wasn’t quite true, was it? Ever since moving in with him, Trevor had been quite helpful. He’d supplied her with everything she’d needed to be comfortable and do her job for Erica, and then some. He was courteous and accommodating and was almost obsessively single-minded about lending a hand with Bradley.

As unnerving as it was on a lot of levels, he got definite brownie points for how involved he’d been in Bradley’s care. He’d asked her early on to show him everything he needed to know about babies, adamant about learning how to prepare bottles and formula, change a diaper, give Bradley a bath.

He seemed to have a million questions—which was understandable, she supposed, from a man who didn’t have much experience with young children, but suddenly found himself faced with the possibility of fatherhood. And more than once in the middle of the night, when she hadn’t hopped out of bed quickly enough in response to Bradley’s cries, Trevor had come to her door, tapping softly and offering to help with whatever the baby needed.

Given that they didn’t even know for sure yet that Bradley was his son, he was certainly doing everything that could be expected of a new father.

On the one hand, having Trevor around to take care of everyday obligations that she was normally responsible for all on her own was nice. It relieved a modicum of her personal stress and gave her a little extra time each day to focus on the preparations for Erica’s wedding.

On the other, she wasn’t sure she liked somebody else playing parent to Bradley, even if that person most likely was his biological parent. But she was so used to caring for her infant nephew by herself, she didn’t want anyone usurping that position, pushing her out of Bradley’s life. And if someone else could care for him as well as she did, then that was a real possibility.

Oh, who was she kidding? When those DNA results came back and showed that Trevor was Bradley’s father—which she fully believed would be the case—chances were he would take the baby away from her. Or try to, anyway.

Lord, why had she come here in the first place? It had seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but now… The thought of losing custody of Bradley made her blood go cold, and she wished she could go back in time and do the wrong thing by keeping the baby to herself.

Stripping Bradley down to his brown corduroy pants and long-sleeved duckie shirt, Trevor set the bulky snowsuit aside, then arranged the infant on his hip as if he’d been doing it half his life.

“Have you had dinner yet?” he asked.

She shook her head, still feeling slightly uneasy as she shrugged out of her own outerwear.

“You look tired. Why don’t you go upstairs, change clothes, maybe take a long, hot bath. I’ll get Bradley fed, and you can decide what you’d like to eat later.”

It was as if he’d read her mind. She was tired and more than a little worn out simply from the schedule she’d been keeping lately, but while she knew she needed to eat at some point, what she wanted was to sink beneath about a foot of bubbles for an hour or two and let the hot water and steam-filled room wash away the stress and exhaustion of the day.

But she hated that he knew that…or could read her so easily. Or maybe she hated how reliant she’d become on him, knowing that he intended to take Bradley away from her once it was proven he was the baby’s father—and how comfortable she was with that reliance.

The truth was, she liked living here, under Trevor’s roof. She liked coming home at the end of the day to find him here, or being here when he walked in the door. She liked talking to him, and looking at him, and smelling the faint scent of his cologne in a room long after he’d left it. And she liked having someone to help her with Bradley, to care about Bradley, after doing everything alone for so long and being the only person in her nephew’s life who gave a damn about him.

But all of that also made her feel threatened, insecure. When it came to Bradley, the more Trevor learned to do on his own and the more confident he became in his ability to care for an infant, the less she would be needed. And when those tests finally came back, showing that he was the baby’s father…well, she would be pretty much expendable, wouldn’t she?

She pressed the heel of her hand to the center of her forehead, where a headache that hadn’t been there five minutes ago began to pound right between her eyes.

“Go ahead,” Trevor told her, moving around her statue-like form to the cupboard, where he began to collect assorted baby food jars for Bradley’s dinner. “We’ll be fine.”

Yeah, that was the problem.

But without a word, she dragged herself upstairs, too tired and suddenly out of sorts to pass on the offer of a nice, hot bubble bath, even if it had been suggested by the man who’d put her out of sorts in the first place.

Resisting the urge to reach around and pat himself on the back, Trevor walked quietly into Haylie’s room and laid Bradley down in the crib in the corner. He put the baby on his back, just as Haylie had instructed the first time she’d shown him how to put the boy down for a nap, and wound the timer on the jungle animals mobile hanging overhead.

He was pretty sure he’d remembered everything. After feeding Bradley, he’d given the baby a bath in his bathroom because Haylie was still locked in hers, then put him in a new diaper and Onesie. He’d even brought along a pacifier, which Bradley was busily sucking while his eyelids grew heavier and heavier.

Trevor was getting pretty good at this, if he did say so himself. As unhappy as he’d been when Haylie had first dropped Bradley in his lap, and as nervous as he’d been when he’d first decided to step up to the plate and learn his way around the care and feeding of an infant, he was now confident that if the paternity test came back naming him Bradley’s biological father, he would be fully capable of caring for the child on his own. It would mean some rearranging of his life and normal routine, but he could do it.

Just as the baby’s eyes drifted closed one last time and the suction on the pacifier slowed to only an occasional twitch of his soft, round cheeks, Trevor heard the bathroom door click open.

Raising his arms to the side like someone being held at gunpoint, he kept his back to that side of the room, hoping against hope that Haylie wouldn’t be startled enough by his presence in her bedroom to shriek and wake the baby.