Inheriting His Secret Christmas Baby (8 page)

She’d changed out of her blouse and slacks and was now wearing a pair of skintight black leggings with an equally snug short-sleeved top. The soft pink shirt had a faded floral design on the front, interspersed with tiny glittering rhinestones. She was wearing matching pink ballet flats on her feet and had pulled her hair back into a ponytail.

“Good timing,” he said as she moved closer, rubbing the palms of her hands against her thighs nervously. He pulled out a chair and held it for her before taking his own.

“Did Bradley go down okay?”

She nodded, reaching for her glass of Barbaresco and taking a small sip. “I think being around all those other children at the day-care center wore him out.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Anytime a four-month-old child is happy or sleeping, it’s a good thing, pretty much regardless of what made him that way.”

Trevor chuckled, offering her some salad and fresh-grated Parmesan. “I’ll remember that.”

Shifting in her seat, she picked up her fork and started toying with the long strands of pasta on her plate, pointedly not meeting his gaze. “You didn’t need to buy the crib and changing table and everything, though. We aren’t going to be here that long and could have made do with just a bassinet or maybe a small playpen.”

While they’d been gone that afternoon, he’d had the entire house fitted for Bradley and baby proofed. He hadn’t known exactly what was needed, but thankfully there were professionals he could hire who did.

“Don’t be silly,” he told her, digging into his own meal. “You’re a guest, and should have what you need to be comfortable. Besides, a baby shouldn’t be sleeping on a pile of blankets on the floor, and if Bradley really is my son, then I’ll be needing everything here, anyway.”

The plastic locks on the cupboards and the playpen in the center of the living room were going to take some getting used to, and considering that Bradley wasn’t even crawling yet, a lot of the precautionary measures leaned toward overkill. But just like the furniture, if Bradley was his, it would all be necessary eventually.

“Well, thank you,” Haylie said quietly. “This is delicious, by the way.”

“I’m sure your lunch at Sky Lounge was much better, but it’s passable. And I’ll tell you a secret.” He paused, sipping his light red wine until she looked in his direction. “The sauce came from Emilio’s.”

“Really?”

“Mmm-hmm. If you like Italian, it is the place to eat at the Ridge—or in all of Aspen, frankly. The food there is much better than anything I could pull off, believe me,” he offered with a self-deprecating wink. “If you like French cuisine, though, you really should try the main restaurant, Chagall’s. I’ll have to take you there sometime.”

“I thought you didn’t want anyone to know about our visit until you’re sure about Bradley,” she reminded him, taking a bite and chewing slowly. “Especially your family.”

“Well, you’ve already met Guy. And I have a feeling Erica will make sure the rest of the family all knows that you’re here and why. She’ll swear them to secrecy, and they’ll respect our privacy, but I wouldn’t be surprised if several of them make up excuses to drop by over the next few days to check out you and Bradley.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Speaking of Erica,” he said between bites, “you haven’t told me yet what the two of you discussed at lunch.”

Tilting her head, her ponytail swung behind her. Her long lashes fluttered as she lowered her gaze. “It was just boring girl talk. Why do you want to know?”

“Call me curious. I feel a bit like a matchmaker waiting to hear how a blind date turned out. I’m the one who set the two of you up, now I want to make sure everything went okay.”

Raising those cornflower-blue eyes back to his, her tone tightened. “I already told you I’d stay, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m not worried.” His teeth made a tiny clinking noise against his fork as he bit down harder than he’d intended.

He wasn’t used to having to work this hard to get information. With women, he usually just smiled at them, maybe brushed his fingertips down the side of their arm, and they became either flustered enough or enamored enough to open their mouths and tell him anything he wanted to know. With men, a stern glance and subtle reminder of exactly who he was and of his family name had them delivering whatever he needed.

Haylie was different, though. She was a woman, so he suspected she was naturally attracted to him on some feminine level; they all were. But she was also stubborn and determined, which meant she wasn’t going to let her hormones override her common sense.

And even though she’d agreed to his bargain of sticking around for the DNA results, he knew she wasn’t entirely pleased about the decision. Something he couldn’t blame her for, he supposed. After all, he got to stay right where he was, in his own home, working in his own office. She, however, had to adapt to a new environment, moving in with a man she’d just met, taking time away from her business and her friends and everything she was used to.

The complete upheaval of her life couldn’t be easy for her. Which was why he was determined to see that her stay remained as painless as possible.

Picking up his wineglass, he brought it to his lips. “I do want to be sure you and Erica are both content with whatever decisions you made, though. She’s my sister, and I love her. I don’t want her to feel pressured into working with you if the two of you didn’t hit it off. And although I realize there are probably a hundred other things you’d rather do than stay here with me—”

“A thousand,” she cut in shamelessly.

One corner of his mouth twitched. “A thousand others, then. I want to make sure you’ll be at least relatively happy during your visit.”

A few seconds ticked by while she seemed to consider that. He sipped his wine, watching as she twirled her fork over and over again through the long strands of pasta still on her plate.

“I like your sister very much,” she finally replied. “And I think she must have liked me, as well as my ideas for her wedding, because she…”

She trailed off, her voice going soft, her head bowed.

“She hired you, I assume,” he put in. “Otherwise, I doubt you would have agreed to stick around.”

Dragging her gaze up to his, she nodded. And then she whispered, “She offered to pay me twice my usual rate.”

She seemed embarrassed by the admission, though he couldn’t fathom why.

“Excellent,” he said. “You’re worth it, I’m sure.”

Haylie’s brows drew together. “You can’t know that. Neither can Erica. I could be the worst event planner in the world, ready to put her in orange taffeta and the groom in a powder-blue tuxedo.”

He gave a low chuckle. “That would be quite the sight.”

Shaking her head, she dropped her fork and leaned back in her chair, arms going across her chest in a clear sign of annoyance. “It’s not funny. You’re both putting an awful lot of faith in someone you don’t even know. This is her wedding, for heaven’s sake. One of the most important days of her life. She should be hiring someone she knows. Someone who’s been recommended to her by all of her friends. Someone she has utter faith in.”

Setting aside his own utensils, Trevor leaned back, mirroring her rigid posture. “First, I only asked Erica to meet with you, I didn’t tie her up and order her to hire you—not that she would have, even if I had. And I trust my sister’s judgment. If you hadn’t impressed her with your knowledge and ideas while the two of you were together, she wouldn’t have hired you.”

Uncrossing his arms, he leaned forward, draping them on the edge of the table instead. “Second, she—and I, and the rest of the family—can afford to be generous with you. Erica could hire an army of stylists, if she wanted to, but I think the notion of a smaller wedding appeals to her, as does fewer people to help her organize the event.”

Lowering his voice, he moved in even closer, making sure she understood the importance of his next words and just how serious he was about them. “Third, I want you here. You and Bradley both. If Erica hadn’t hired you to plan her wedding, I’d have found another reason for you to stay. Believe me, Haylie, when it comes to you and that baby sleeping upstairs, money is the least of my concerns. I’ll pay you triple, even quadruple your usual rate, if that’s what it takes to keep you here until I can be sure I’m Bradley’s father.”

Haylie sat, stunned. The silence filling the dining room, and in fact the entire house, was thick and heavy, making her feel as though she’d been physically battered by Trevor’s words.

She might not be comfortable with the situation, or thrilled with the way he’d maneuvered her into moving in with him, but one thing she could no longer doubt was his determination to see this through.

It impressed her, actually, as painful as that was to admit. Most men would be doing everything they could think of to avoid laying claim to some random woman’s child, scrambling for excuses not to take a blood test.

But Trevor had not only insisted on a paternity test first thing, he wanted to keep Bradley under close watch until the results came in and he could know for sure that he was—or was not—Bradley’s father.

Not only that, but Trevor was willing to take her in, too, as the child’s aunt, guardian and the closest thing Bradley had to a mother. Take them in, transform his house from a luxurious bachelor pad to one step up from a day-care center, and manufacture a job for her out of thin air to keep her from losing business or income while she was away from home.

Granted, she didn’t need any of those things. She had her own apartment back in Denver, as well as a successful business. But the fact that he was willing to move heaven and earth to ensure their presence over the next couple of weeks raised her opinion of Trevor by several notches, at least.

Forcing herself to loosen her rigid posture, Haylie let her arms fall to her lap and gave a soft sigh. She preferred to categorize it as a tired sigh, not a defeated one, but there was a small part of her that had decided to wave the white flag of surrender.

She’d come here to let Trevor know about his son. It wasn’t her fault that things had snowballed in a manner she hadn’t anticipated, but since she’d already agreed to help Erica plan her wedding, already agreed to move into Trevor’s house…was there really any point in battling over the fine points now? Wasn’t it better to simply relax and let the unstoppable tide that was Trevor Jarrod sweep her away?

She gave a mental wince at that thought. All right, perhaps not entirely. She was too darned stubborn herself to simply roll over and let another human being dictate her actions or her life.

But a little acquiescence wouldn’t kill her. And, in fact, if she gave Trevor’s sister the wedding of her dreams, it might even prove quite beneficial to her livelihood down the road.

With that in mind, she picked up her fork, keeping her attention on her plate as she said, “Erica told me that she and her fiancé had originally planned a big, summer wedding. But they’ve been so busy, and things have gotten so out of control that now they just want to be married already, without all the hoopla of a large reception.”

Her willingness to talk seemed to relax Trevor as well. Sitting back in his chair, he reached for his glass, taking a drink of wine before returning to his meal.

“I’m not sure exactly how it came about, but she loves the idea of a Christmas Eve wedding. Something private and low-key, held at the resort, though we haven’t decided yet on exactly where.”

Trevor nodded, swallowing a bite of pasta before replying, “She’ll have plenty of choices. We tend to have a nice handful of guests over the holidays, but aren’t as full as usual. It shouldn’t be hard to reserve a ballroom or two and keep most of the public from even knowing what’s going on until after the fact.”

“That’s what Erica said. Pulling something like this together in only two weeks’ time won’t be easy, though. I’m going to need a place to work. A telephone, fax machine… It would really help to have my laptop and Rolodex,” she murmured distractedly as an unending list of necessities and to-dos started scrolling through her head.

“Whatever you need. You can use my office here at the house, if you’d like, or we’ll set up another room for you. I’ll even run you back to Denver to collect some of your things,” he told her. Then added with a wink, “As long as you promise not to abandon ship.”

The wink sent her heart rate skittering, effectively hitting the brakes on the runaway train of her work-related thoughts. Seconds ticked by while her mind went blank and her temperature climbed degree by slow degree into the red.

What had they been talking about? Oh, right, a wedding. His sister’s wedding. All the plans she had to put in motion in the rush to get everything done by December twenty-fourth.

Needing something to cool her down and hopefully get her brain cells functioning again, she tossed back the last few swallows of wine in her glass. It didn’t help. What she needed was water. Ice-cold water, preferably in bucket form, being tossed right in her face.

Before she could even finish that nice little cooling-off fantasy, however, Trevor was stretching an arm in front of her to refill her glass with the lovely, brick-red liquid. As tempting as it was, Haylie refrained from emptying that glass, too, instead keeping one hand on her utensils and the other tucked away beneath the table.

Clearing her throat, she hoped her voice wouldn’t squeak when she tried to speak. “Would you mind if I used the resort’s child-care facility for Bradley? Not all the time…I don’t like to be away from him for long stretches.”

Even back home, she kept him with her at work and only left him with someone else for a few hours if she absolutely had to. Jittery brides tended to get annoyed with wedding planners who spend half their time bouncing and burping a fussy baby.

“But I know I’ll need to do some running around, and also some touring of the Jarrod Ridge property, so it would probably be better to have someone else watching him then.”

“Of course,” Trevor readily agreed. Finished with his dinner, he crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair, the picture of quiet ease. “In fact, let me be very clear—you’ve got carte blanche while you’re here, Haylie. Anything you need, it’s yours.”

Uncrossing his legs, he pushed away from the table and stood, collecting their empty plates. Gathering the cutlery and glasses, she followed him through the house to the kitchen.

“I’ll see that you’re set up with a winter-safe vehicle and a place to work, both here and at the Manor,” he continued. “I can even arrange for you to have as many assistants as you’d like from the temp agency we use for the Ridge, and you can come to me or Diana for anything else you might need.”

She helped him load the dishwasher, then leaned back against one of the counters to study him. It felt odd to her to see a man like Trevor doing such mundane chores. She would have expected him to have a cook and housekeeper, to be catered to rather than catering to her.

And he did exude that air of power and privilege at times. Especially when he wore a suit and tie and looked like he should be posing for the cover of Forbes or GQ.

The very thought made her knees go weak, and she dug her nails into the edge of the countertop to keep from sliding to the floor in a heap.

Oh, yes. He was handsome enough and impressive enough to make James Bond look like a vagrant. But he also possessed a very wide independent streak. She’d recognized that the minute he’d brought her to his house.

No family mausoleum or giant mansion with round-the-clock servants to satisfy his every whim. And though she was sure he had someone come in to clean at least once a week and could have anything he desired delivered within hours at the snap of his fingers, it was obvious he valued his privacy.

Probably because he liked to bring women home with him, and live-in staff would have cramped his style.

Her mouth twisted. That thought didn’t sit very well. And then it twisted even more because she shouldn’t have cared one way or another who he brought home or what he did with them once they were here.

But, oh, how she hated picturing him here with other women. In this same room, this same house…and upstairs in his bedroom.

She’d only gotten a glimpse of it during his initial tour, but she could well imagine the feel of those soft, hunter-green sheets beneath her bare skin. His hard, muscled body above her as they stretched out on the wide, king-size bed. His mouth and his hands and…

A wave of longing swept through her, followed by a blast of warmth that lit her up like a Christmas candle, she was sure. She swallowed hard and tried not to look conspicuously aroused as Trevor finished what he was doing and turned back to face her.

“Maybe you could even let me watch him some of the time.”

Haylie blinked, praying he wouldn’t notice the blush tingeing her cheeks, or the fact that she was panting ever so slightly.

God, she was such a sap. She should be keeping him at arm’s length. Two or three arms’ lengths. Not daydreaming about how amazing he probably looked without clothes on.

Shaking her head, she tried to clear the haze of lust fogging her brain and focus on his words.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I said maybe I can keep Bradley once in a while when you’re busy with Erica or whatever. It will give us a chance to get to know each other—man to man.”

He offered a lopsided smile that had her heart flip-flopping inside her chest.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” she asked with a mental wince. “Babies are a lot of work.”

Instead of backing down, his expression hardened. “According to you, Bradley is my son. Which means I might as well start learning the ropes now.”

Dark eyes flashing, he stalked toward her, closing the distance between them and making her shrink back.

Placing his hands against the marble countertop on either side of her waist, he leaned in, crowding her. She fought the urge to squirm as his warm breath danced across her face and his chest brushed the tips of her breasts. They might both be fully clothed, but she felt the touch right down to her soul, her nipples budding inside the cups of her bra.

“And I thought you could teach me what I need to know,” he whispered, his gaze locked on her lips. “In the evenings, when you’re not busy with plans for Erica.”

She opened her mouth, wanting to tell him that in order to be ready for a Christmas Eve wedding, she would likely be working mornings, evenings and every minute in between. Sleep would be a luxury, never mind taking the time to give him child-care lessons.

But having him close enough that she could see the gold flecks in his chocolate-brown eyes and smell his cologne like it was a part of herself sent logical thought flying right out the window.

“All right,” she agreed, almost as though someone else were speaking for her.

His head dipped in what she thought was a nod, and then he lifted his gaze to hers. The heat and intensity there made her want to rear back…but she couldn’t seem to move.

“I’m going to kiss you now, Haylie Smith,” he murmured in a low, mesmerizing voice. “Why?”

He grinned. “Because I’ve been thinking about it all night. I want to feel your lips, know what you taste like.”

Oh, he should write greeting cards. His assertion melted her insides until she could barely hold herself upright.

She knew she should say no, push him away, but darned if her body would listen to reason. Instead, her lips parted and she whispered the only two words she could manage.

“All right.”

Haylie’s acquiescence was nice, but he didn’t need it. At that moment, a herd of wild horses couldn’t have stopped him from kissing her.

But even as Trevor covered Haylie’s mouth with his own, he knew he shouldn’t be doing this. The obstacles between them were enough to add an extra mile or two to the Great Wall of China. He couldn’t have picked a more complicated woman to be attracted to if he’d walked into a psychiatric ward and announced he would pay a million dollars for a willing bride.

She was practically a stranger. She’d shown up in his office with a baby she claimed was his—and her dead sister’s, no less.

And that was just the tip of the iceberg. If Bradley really did turn out to be his, then there was the whole custody issue to deal with. Custody, and the fact that he didn’t know the first thing about being a father.

Trevor would never be able to turn his back on his own child. Say thanks for letting me know about my kid, but I’m not interested in being a dad and be content with sending a support check every month to assuage his guilt.

But he knew, with every fiber of his being, that if he voiced his desire to keep Bradley and be a true father to the little boy, Haylie would fight him every step of the way. She was bonded to the baby like nothing he’d ever seen before. Of course, given what he knew about her sister, he had no doubt that Haylie had stepped in to mother Bradley from the moment he was born.

He admired the hell out of her for that. But it was definitely going to complicate matters if the tests came back positive and he asserted his parental rights.

And still he kissed her. A soft brushing of lips at first, followed by a firmer pressing.

She felt exactly as he’d imagined she would—like rose petals or plush velvet. And she tasted even better. Like the Barbaresco they’d had with dinner—spicy and tart, but with an extra-sweet tang that was uniquely her own.

Leaning in a few brief inches, he let his body rest against hers. From chest to thigh, they touched, heat swirling between them and sending their temperatures—or his, at any rate—skyrocketing.