Rock (BBW Secret Baby Bear Shifter Romance) (Secret Baby Bears Book 2)

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Alec

Secret Baby Bears II

by

Becca Fanning

Prologue

Alec and the others exchanged glances. The question had stunned them. Donating sperm to Dodson University had been a controversial decision. At first, some of the men hadn’t wanted to do it. “Yeah,” Rock said. “We remember. Why?”
 

“I’m sorry to inform you gentlemen that there was a problem,” Partridge said. “There was a mistake. Your sperm was supposed to be designated for research only. Unfortunately, a lab tech made a slight mix-up, and your sperm was given out to five different women. All of them became pregnant.” He glanced around the room, looking almost nervous. “And all of you sired a child.”
 

“What?” Rock blinked. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
 

Partridge shook his head. “Oh, no,” he said. “Speculon Labs called me specifically to address this issue. We have,” he paused and coughed. “An understanding.”
 

“So you’re telling me that I’m a dad?” Rock’s mouth fell open and he gaped around the room. “Seriously?”
 

Partridge nodded. “Correct,” he said. “You’re a father.”
 

Rock blinked. “Holy shit,” he said. “I can’t believe it.”
 

Partridge nodded again. “I wouldn’t lie to you,” he said smoothly.
 

Chapter One

Gemma Duval paused and took a moment to wipe the loose strands of hair away from her wide forehead. She took a deep breath and looked in the mirror. Despite feeling more panicked than ever before, she still looked the same as she always had: heart-shaped face, dark brown hair streaked with blonde, soft grey eyes.
 

“Mom!” Arthur shrieked in his high chair. When Gemma looked at him, he grinned. “Party!”
 

“That’s right,” Gemma cooed. “Today’s your birthday, honey!”
 

Arthur waved his stubby arms in the air and grinned. He was clutching a spoon in his fist that was covered with globs of peanut butter and as he moved around, flecks of the peanut butter leapt skyward and plastered themselves all over the ceiling. Gemma rolled her eyes; she’d known ahead of time that single parenting would be a lot of work, but this was seeming like a lot, even for her usually-well-behaved Arthur.
 

“Honey, eat your breakfast,” Gemma said in a soft voice. She stepped closer to the high chair and took a critical look at her son. Even though he was only two, he looked much older – three or four at least. His thick brown hair was of a different texture than Gemma’s. It was rougher, curly, and wild. His golden eyes always reflected the light – even in a dark room – and she noticed that Arthur always seemed a little
too
aware of what was going on for a toddler. She told herself that he was just gifted, as soon as he was in school, they’d figure it out properly. But there were still some nights where Gemma felt restless, worrying about what exactly made her son different from the rest.
 

Parenthood was something Gemma had always wanted. Ever since she was little. When her girlfriends used to dress up for Halloween as witches and gypsies, Gemma always wanted to be a mother. Her own mother thought this was adorable, and would turn Gemma into a frumpy little hausfrau with plastic curlers and smeared lipstick, carrying a baby doll or three.
 

The urge hadn’t passed as Gemma had aged. In high school, she’d felt like the ugly duckling for far too long. In reality, Gemma was lovely: but her soft features and striking grey eyes weren’t appealing to boys of the same age. She watched miserably as all of her friends found dates and boyfriends, and desperately wanted the same for herself.
 

“Everything will be different in college,” Gemma’s sister Talia had told her, with a knowing look on her sharp face. Talia was three years older than Gemma, although it seemed to Gemma that Talia had a lifetime of experience. Talia was always the ‘cool’ sister, the first one to travel overseas, the one to get married before Gemma had ever had her first boyfriend. Gemma had desperately wanted to believe her: after all, wasn’t college where everyone was supposed to fall in love for the first time?
 

But it hadn’t happened in college, either. Gemma had studied archaeology and art history and despite her best efforts, the relationship with her male peers never went beyond study buddy. There was one night where Gemma dressed up to the nines and went to a bar for New Year’s Eve, desperate to find a guy who’d love her. But everyone was already paired off, and the only thing Gemma kissed at midnight was the lip of a shot glass.
 

She was miserable, but she decided that it probably wasn’t happening because she was trying too hard. “Everything will be better once you quit looking so desperate,” Talia said, in all of her infinite, divorced-lady wisdom. “I promise.”
 

So Gemma quit looking. Instead of haunting bars and coffee shops, she haunted the library and graduated Magna Cum Laude. Her professors, her parents, even Talia said they were all so proud of Gemma. But she still felt like a failure. “What’s wrong with me?” Gemma asked the mirror, every single night before she went to sleep. “Why isn’t it happening for me, like with everyone else?”
 

She’d decided that if she hadn’t met someone by the age of thirty, she’d go to a sperm bank and “pick a father.” The idea was scary, and something that Talia tried to talk her out of. But her mother had been supportive. She’d driven Gemma to the clinic in the wee hours of her 30
^th
birthday.
 

“Honey, this is going to be hard,” Gemma’s mother said. “You won’t have time for anyone but your child, not for years. Do you know how hard that is when you’re on your own?”
 

Gemma had stared at her mother. In a rare moment of bad temper, she’d snapped: “But I’m
already
doing everything on my own, aren’t I? How much harder can it be?”
 

In reality, it hadn’t been as hard as Gemma had feared. She’d adored being pregnant – schlepping around in cute maternity outfits and beaming at everyone who gazed at her belly. She’d felt like it suited her. For the first time in her life, she’d felt like she’d done something exactly right. Her friends at work offered pregnancy advice – books and DVDs and useful tidbits like, “you’re not really eating for two, you know. Try to keep your calorie intake close to normal.” Gemma took it all in stride, and for the first couple of months, nothing really extraordinary happened. Her lips swelled and her hair curled a little bit, and while she
felt
more attractive, that was no basis for what happened next.
 

Men couldn’t stay away from her. It was like the world had flipped upside down, or the poles had lost their polarity. Gemma didn’t get it; she was
pregnant
. Didn’t that mean to men that she was marked, somehow? Off limits? It was puzzling.
 

There was the time at the grocery store when Gemma was just beginning to show. She was reaching up high to the top shelf for a deluxe pack of her favorite cookies. Out of nowhere, a handsome guy with dark hair swooped in and grabbed them for her, delicately placing them in her cart.