The Billionaire's Christmas Baby (5 page)

“I should go… to sleep.”

He grabbed her hand. She didn’t want to turn and look at him. She took a steadying breath and channeled that self-control that she’d perfected years ago.

“You completely caught me by surprise,” he said slowly. She didn’t know if he meant her or the news about Emily. When she raised her eyes to meet his, they were filled with a desire she didn’t want to acknowledge. She stood quickly, still holding down the hem of the T-shirt. She walked as fast as she could to the open door, the floorboards creaking as loudly as the beating of her heart. She needed to get to work on that list right away.

“Hannah,” he called out, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

She turned to look back at him, trying to look calm, cool, and collected. Do not look below his chin.
Do not look at the display of muscles and abs, Hannah
.

“Yes?” She cringed at the high-pitched sound of her voice. She sounded like the chicken she began to resemble.

“Did you
poke
me with a book?”

Chapter Five

The storm wasn’t over.

The roads weren’t getting plowed.

Hannah and the baby weren’t going home today.

Jackson leaned forward, bracing his hands against the marble kitchen counter. It was so dark and windy that it barely looked like morning. Even if he had wanted to enforce what he’d said about her going home today, there was no chance. The weather wasn’t showing any signs of relenting.

After Hannah left his room last night, he’d felt the distinct, and very unexpected, sensation of loss. He wasn’t angry anymore. He knew what it must have taken for someone like her to enter his room, especially considering how the evening had ended with him telling her to go home. He’d seen the fear and felt the trembling in her body when she’d been under him. And the feel of her in his arms led to a whole other set of problems. His attraction to her was undeniable, and it was beyond physical, which was entirely new for him. He admired how gutsy she was, despite whatever issues she had with men. She had driven hours through a blizzard to confront a stranger. Hell, that took courage.

He was about to get himself some coffee when he heard soft footsteps approaching the kitchen. He turned around at the sound of her hesitant hello, and his gut clenched. God, she was beautiful. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders and he remembered how soft it had been against his bare chest last night. The curves of her body intimately pressed against his wouldn’t be forgotten for a long time.

“Morning,” he said. He smiled and saw the tension leave her face. Who knew what she thought of him? That he’d send her on her way in a blizzard or yell at her?

“I made a pot of coffee. Want a cup?”

“Please,” she said and walked in a few more steps.

“Have a seat,” he said. He handed her one of the pottery mugs his designer had chosen, motioning to the kitchen table. She sat opposite him, tucking one leg under her. She added milk to her cup and then looked up at him. She had gorgeous eyes, large and clear. And warm. The kind of eyes that made you think you could tell anything to this woman and that she’d understand, and wouldn’t judge. He gave himself a mental shake. He needed to be nice, that was all.

“I’m sorry about last night. And obviously, I don’t expect you to leave today.”

She took a sip of her coffee, wrapping her hands around the oversized cup. She had delicate hands. Her nails weren’t long, but nicely shaped. They didn’t have a French manicure or god-awful loud color on them… wait a second, when the hell did he even look at a woman’s hand… other than to see if there was a wedding ring on it? She looked into her cup. She hadn’t said anything yet and he realized that he was anxious for her response. Anxious in that sort of way that told him he cared about her feelings. Crap. First the nails, now the feelings.

“I was kind of worried about how we would get back in this weather,” she said with a twinkle in her eye, her lips curling up into a deliciously alluring smile. He needed a drink, but it was way too early in the day for that.

“Look, let’s call a truce okay? I think I’ve already made it clear that your plan doesn’t really…work for me. If we talk about it again, we’re going to end up arguing. You’ve got to understand that I have no intention of ever going along with this.”

The warmth in her eyes disappeared and was replaced by a fiery sheen. Hell, she probably had as big a temper as he. Her full lips were pinched and thin, and he bet she held back a long string of curses. Too bad. He got up and rummaged through the cupboards, aware that she was watching him, fuming. “What would you like for breakfast?” He forced himself to sound nonchalant.

“How about a knife? You can stick it right through my heart.”

He didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or groan with frustration. He was going to ignore the bait. “It must be hours since you’ve eaten. Is cereal okay? I have muffins too.”

“Not hungry.”

He turned around to look at her. Her leg was crossed over the other and she drummed her fingers against the table. He sighed. “No point in starving yourself because you’re pissed at me.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Fine. I’ll heat up a muffin. Lemon cranberry,” he said when she continued to stonewall him.

“
You
bake?”

He shook his head, insanely relieved that she was speaking to him again. “My housekeeper does. She freezes a bunch of stuff for me to bring when I come up here.”

“So you have a lot of help at home?” she asked, looking innocent. She folded her hands neatly in her lap. He already knew her better than that.

“I’m a busy man. I work late hours. Very late. Not
family
man type hours,” he said, enunciating every word to make it clear that he knew exactly what she was getting at. The microwave beeped and he set the muffins in front of her. He sat down and waited for her to take a muffin before grabbing one himself.

“Ah, so you have everything then.”

He gave a terse nod.

“You have money, a penthouse, a company, a cabin,” she said, popping a piece of the muffin into her mouth

“Yes.”

“I mean, what more could there possibly be in life other than money, assets, and work?” She put another piece of muffin in her mouth and he lost his appetite. Who was she to judge him?

The sound of a baby’s cry prevented him from making a retort. Hannah jumped up, pulled out a bottle from the fridge, and dropped it in the small pot already filled with water on the stove. The baby. That baby was his niece. His sister’s responsibility. Not his.

He stood up so fast his chair nearly toppled over. “Do you mind if I go do some work?”

He could tell she was surprised at his abrupt interruption. She shook her head and licked her lips again. Yeah, he was so outta here. He refilled his cup of coffee and walked out of the kitchen.

…

Hannah laughed as she placed Emily into the bathroom sink. The baby loved her baths and gave a delighted gasp as her body made contact with the warm water. Hannah cradled her head with one hand and rubbed the soapy washcloth over Emily’s soft skin. Emily kicked her legs and gurgled loudly. She yelped as Emily splashed her.

“Everything okay in here?”

Hannah turned her head as Jackson walked in wearing an expression she couldn’t quite figure out. He looked down at Emily and for a second she thought he was going to smile, but instead she saw his jaw clench. She tried not to let her disappointment show. She didn’t expect him to be reduced to a pile of mush by looking at the baby, but maybe a hint of a smile…

“We’re doing fine,” she said as she rinsed the soap off Emily’s slippery skin. “Every time I give Emily a bath I seem to get soaked.”

She busied herself with getting Emily out of the water and into the waiting towel, and pretended not to be aware of Jackson’s intense gaze. His silence was disconcerting. She almost preferred the sarcastic comments to the silence. She spotted the sleeper that she’d already laid out peeking out from under the towel. Almost positive Jackson hadn’t noticed, she slipped it into the sink.

“Oh shoot!”

“What is it?”

She avoided eye contact and focused on the now drenched sleeper while keeping Emily bundled in the towel.

“Her sleeper is soaked! Here,” she said and shoved Emily into his arms. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to grab a new one.” She didn’t bother waiting for a response and ran out of the washroom, her heart beating as though she’d just committed a felony. She was such a bad liar, she thought as she rummaged around for the only other sleeper she had. She waited a few moments before walking back into the washroom. Would Jackson’s heart melt by holding his little niece?

He awkwardly cradled Emily in his arms. Was he smiling at her? Was he choked up with emotion?

Jackson looked up as soon as she approached his side and for a second she could have sworn she saw something warm in his expression. But then he handed Emily off to her and strode out of the room without saying anything.

Hannah stared into Emily’s wide blue eyes. So much for her plan.

…

Jackson told himself that all babies were cute. Emily was not a special baby. Human adults were biologically programmed to respond to babies. It was how the human race propagated. His wanting to keep holding the baby was only natural. And the connection he felt when he stared into those wide, curious eyes was completely ridiculous. That was that. A figment of his imagination. He needed to get down to work and count the hours until Hannah and his… the baby left.

He settled himself at the table in the great room and opened his laptop and briefcase. He came out here every year not to escape work, because he loved work and he loved the company he’d built with his best friend. No, he came out here to escape a season filled with year after year of bad memories. Here, there was no pressure to act like Christmas meant something more to him than any other day on the calendar. Until, of course, Hannah came crashing into his world.

He pretended to be deep in concentration at his computer an hour later when he heard Hannah enter the room. She had that giant bag that looked ready to burst with books sitting on her shoulder along with a fresh mug of coffee. He ignored the smell of lavender as she passed him to sit at the opposite end of the table.

“I hope you don’t mind if I sit here. I put Emily down for a nap so I’d like to try and catch up on some work,” she said, placing her bag on the table.

“Not at all,” he said and looked back at his computer screen.

“She downed that bottle super fast,” she said with a laugh. “She’s always ravenous after a bath.” He gave her a polite nod. He was not going to engage her in a discussion about babies. He concentrated on the spreadsheet on his computer screen, pleased that she finally took the hint that he didn’t want to talk anymore.

Ten minutes later he tried to ignore the humming coming from across the table. Sounded something like jingle bells, slightly more than off-tune. He looked up with an exaggerated sigh. She didn’t get the hint as she started tapping her foot in time with her humming. She highlighted something from a book.

“What are you working on?”

She looked up from her book, obviously startled. “Oh, I’m studying.”

He frowned. “For what?”

She bent her head again. “My PhD.”

“PhD?”

She nodded.

“In social work?”

“No. Psychology.” She took a sip of coffee then bent her head back in her book. He stared at the top of her head as she resumed her Christmas humming. He tried not to be impressed by her, but dammit, the more he learned about this woman the more he was intrigued by her and attracted to her. It was damn inconvenient.

“Why are you getting a degree in psychology?”

“Well, next year when I save enough money, I’d like to finish my degree and then ultimately I’d like to be a child psychologist.”

He didn’t say a thing as he stared at the gorgeous woman across the table.
Run, Jackson, run far away
. She was beautiful, sweet, and smart. It was a hell of a combination. The women he dated were not nearly as dangerous as Hannah.

“Do you have any Christmas CDs?” Hannah stared at him from across the table, seemingly oblivious to his thoughts.

“Christmas
?” Her preoccupation with all things Christmas wasn’t the least bit attractive.

He rolled his eyes at her theatrical intake of breath, her hand flying to her chest. He refused to glance down at her chest again, knowing exactly where those thoughts would lead.

“Not even one?”

He smiled smugly. “Nope.”

“I should have known,” she said into her mug before she took a sip.

“Really? What gave it away?” He enjoyed talking to her way too much. For the first time in a long, long time, he felt like enjoying someone’s company and not doing work. For the last ten years, he’d lived and breathed his company. He went to bed at night, sometimes with a woman by his side, sometimes alone, but always with work on his mind. When he wasn’t working he thought about work. He hated holidays because it meant business couldn’t be done. Work had been his salvation. Work was everything. But right now he could allow himself a brief respite with a beautiful, intriguing woman, couldn’t he?

“I knew last night that anyone who didn’t have a single decoration up must be a miserable, Ebenezer Scrooge type of person,” she said jabbing her highlighter in the air at his direction.

A choked laugh escaped his lips. “Really, so because I don’t have decorations you’ve come to the conclusion that I’m miserable and like Scrooge?”

She raised her eyebrows and folded her arms across her chest. “Then your subsequent behavior confirmed my hypothesis.”

“
That again
. I already explained my behavior.”

“Nothing you can say can excuse that behavior, Jackson. But not to worry, I understand that there are people in the world who are untouched by the spirit of Christmas—”

“Do you get commission from Santa Claus?” Jackson felt a smile spread across his face as she frowned at him.

“It happens to be my favorite holiday, that’s all.”

“Hannah, Christmas, as it exists in North America, is a commercially driven holiday. We’re told we need to spend hundreds or thousands of dollars on loved ones in order to show we care. People tack on thousands in consumer debt and justify it by saying they have to for Christmas. I mean look at you, you’re equating Christmas with something you need to
buy
—like a CD—with having Christmas spirit.” He figured his high-handed tone was not at all appreciated when her frown turned into a glare. She didn’t answer as she looked down into her book. He was surprised by the disappointment he felt when she didn’t engage him anymore. He pretended to focus on the spreadsheet that didn’t interest him at all.

Hannah’s voice interrupted the silence a few seconds later and he ignored the surge of happiness he felt.

“Would you mind if I had a look at your stereo?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Be my guest.”

She rose and walked over to the entertainment center. He let his eyes wander over her very enticing figure in the form fitting jeans she wore. If she could ease up on the holiday stuff and not mention his family again, they might even make it out of here tomorrow without an argument.