The Billionaire's Christmas Baby (14 page)

“I started out a lot like Emily,” she said softly. “I was left in the cold, on a church doorstep, except there was no uncle, no long-lost relative, so I entered the foster care system.”

Jackson couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. He watched her blink rapidly, her eyes focused on the ceiling. It all clicked together so quickly, he wondered how he’d missed it.

“All I remember is never feeling loved. I didn’t have much I could call my own. I didn’t have a house, parents, anyone or anything…” Hannah paused for a moment and Jackson used every ounce of self-control to not say anything, to let her continue speaking. “Everything I had was in a suitcase, ready to be packed in case it was time for me to move to another home. I never had anything that was truly mine until I bought my house.”

Jackson clenched his teeth, angry on her behalf, hurt for her.

“When I was old enough to realize that I could get out of the system as an adult, that’s what I concentrated on. But there were times, depending on which foster home I was in, that getting out of the system seemed too far away. Some foster homes were better than others.”

He heard the catch in her voice and caught the faint tremble in her chin, but she continued on, telling him things that he wished to God she’d never had to endure. “And then on my way home from school one day, I passed by the library and they were having a used book sale. I stopped at a pale purple book, and the title on the spine was
A Kingdom of Dreams.
And from the moment I opened that book until I shut it, I was a goner. It took me to a place where love conquered all, where men were honorable and—” She paused for a moment and he suspected when she cleared her throat it was to stop the tears. He waited for her to finish, feeling his own tension at her words, imagining her as this young teenager who learned to believe in happily-ever-after.

“The heroine actually got her kingdom in the end—her knight, his love.” She touched his cheek, then pulled him down to her, and he kissed her, met and understood her need for him because it matched his own.

He pushed aside his guilt again—he was protecting her. He’d make everything right for her, for all of them. As their bodies melded, Jackson vowed that one day he’d give Hannah her kingdom.

Chapter Twelve

“Would you like to help?”

He shook his head quickly to be safe. He had absolutely no idea what Hannah was up to. He’d gotten home from work, and instead of greeting Hannah at her usual post, amidst a stack of psychology books, she was in the kitchen. She looked sexy as hell in jeans and a snug-fitting sweater, her hair up in a ponytail and her cheeks rosy from…he had no idea what.

“I’d help you if I knew what you were doing,” he said, planting a kiss on her soft lips.

“Excellent!” Hannah said, and thrust an apron in his direction. “I’m
baking
, Jackson. It’s almost Christmas and we don’t have any treats in this house,” she said, sidestepping him to take out a tray of cookies from the oven.

“Is Emily sleeping?” His love for Emily had been the most unexpected realization. Not duty or obligation, but love. It had sort of snuck up on him when he was holding her or talking to her, and when Hannah had brought her to the office for a surprise visit, and Emily had spit up all over Ethan’s desk because she’d been so excited to see Jackson.

Hannah nodded. “Yup, but she should be waking up soon.”

“Do babies eat cookies?”

“No, babies don’t eat these.” She frowned at him. “Have you heard anything from Nicholas?”

His heart slammed painfully. Jackson shook his head. “No, but everything should be finalized by the end of the week. You know all this, Hannah. I’m next of kin, we’re married, and financially stable, and even our visit with the caseworker was perfect.” So far, Emily’s supposed father hadn’t even shown up. Nicholas agreed it was probably some desperate attempt by a junkie to get some money.

She nodded, biting her lower lip. “I’ll feel better once everything is signed and she’s ours. It’s always bothered me that Emily’s father is MIA.”

Jackson’s mouth went dry. “We are her parents.” In the last two weeks, living with Hannah and Emily had entrenched his determination to make legal what he knew in his heart to be true. There was no way in hell he’d allow someone to come in here and take away the family they were building together.

Hannah smiled at him. “You’re right.”

“Just hang tight.”

His stomach growled loudly and he made a beeline for the tray filled with cookies. Hannah laughed and held up her hand, blocking him.

“No way. You have to help me. And besides, these haven’t been decorated yet,” she said, carefully placing each cookie, one by one, on a cooling rack.

“What about these?” He picked up a box filled with red sparkly cookies.

Hannah pried the box from his hands. “Those are for Ethan. Bring them into the office tomorrow,” she said, placing the lid on the box.

“Why are you making Ethan cookies?”

Hannah sighed and adjusted her apron. He tried not to get distracted. He should just take that apron off.

“Because he called here a few minutes ago. I mentioned I was baking Christmas cookies and he asked if I could make some for him.”

“Ethan? My business partner?” Jackson didn’t think he’d ever seen Ethan eat a cookie.

She nodded, hands on her hips. “Apparently he likes red sprinkles.”

“Red sprinkles?”

She nodded, this time a smile breaking. “Yes.”

“He doesn’t need cookies. Ethan grew up with a slew of nannies and housekeepers and cooks. I, on the other hand, was just a poor, neglected boy, so the cookies are mine,” he said, laughing as Hannah shook her head. It was the first time he’d ever joked about his childhood.

“All right, Tiny Tim, roll up your sleeves and help me make these.”

“I don’t know anything about cookies, except eating them.”

“You afraid?”

Her hands were in the bowl and the batter looked thick and doughy. He was not one to back down from a challenge. “You’re the one who should be afraid,” he said, smiling as she laughed. He took off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Evidently, he’d do anything for her.

“So what do I do?”

“We’re going to roll this out and then make different Christmas shapes. Since you don’t have any cookie cutters, we have to make them by hand.”

He frowned. “Christmas shapes?”

He watched as she rolled the dough until it was thin and smooth. She let out an exasperated sigh. “Christmas trees, bells, angels, you know, anything
Christmas-y
.”

“Right,” he said with a decisive nod. He grabbed a piece of the dough and concentrated on making a tree, while the sound of Christmas songs floated into the kitchen. Before Hannah, not one Christmas carol had ever been heard in his penthouse.

“What
is
that! That looks like some sort of alien!” Hannah’s shriek of laughter made Jackson look down at the cookie he was making. It
did
resemble an alien. He frowned and looked over at hers. Sure enough, she could make a perfectly shaped tree. He thought of something then, the memory of that night that now seemed so long ago.

“Hannah,” he said, grabbing her by the waist, not caring that both their hands were filled with cookie dough as she willingly stepped into his arms. “I’m sorry about those damn cookies,” he said gruffly, leaning down to capture her lips. She kissed him back easily and lovingly.

“You’ve been sampling cookies,” he said between kisses. She pulled him closer, tugging at the back of his neck, and pretty soon Jackson was trying to decide whether or not she’d yell at him if he swept all her cookie dough off the counter and made love to her right then and there.

Jackson spotted her book bag by the kitchen table, reminding him that she still hadn’t unpacked. Whenever she was done studying for the night, she’d pack up her books and stuff them into that Christmas bag. Even though he’d offered to share his home office space with her, she insisted it was more convenient for her to just store everything in her bag. She hadn’t used her side of the closet for more than the wedding dress. She just kept a suitcase open on his luggage rack in the corner.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You’re actually asking my permission?” she said with a teasing smile.

“I try to be a gentleman,” he said making a subtle attempt at snatching a cookie. She swatted his hand away.

“Why haven’t you used any of the money I gave you?”

Her face went white then red.

“I haven’t needed it.” She shrugged, and then busied herself with plucking apart the gobs of dough he’d grouped together on the cookie pan.

“You haven’t needed it?” He tried to be patient. She shook her head, tossing her hair over her shoulders, and he had to stifle a ripple of desire as the scent of her shampoo wafted over. “How did you pay for your tuition?”

She averted her eyes. “I charged it to one of my cards.”

“It’s ridiculous for you to go into debt when I’ve got more than enough to pay for your tuition.”

She lifted her chin defiantly. “I’m not going into debt.”

“Really? Then why would you charge your tuition to your credit card?”

“To get Air Miles, Jackson.”

Air Miles. He took a deep breath. He needed to count to ten. “Planning on going somewhere?”

She shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. “But I would bring you along if I were planning a trip.”

“That’s good to know,” he said, moving a step closer to her. It was hard to stay mad at her. “But remember the deal we made. I’m paying your tuition.”

“The deal I was forced into?”

“As I recall, Hannah, you were the one pounding down my door during a blizzard—”

“Only to have you slam it in my face.”

The phone rang. It took them both a moment to register what the interruption was. Jackson leaned down to give her one more kiss, loving how disheveled she looked.

“Who is that?” Hannah asked, trying to straighten out her clothes as he glanced at the caller ID.

He put the phone back in his pocket. “Just work.” He hated lying to her, but he’d have to call Nick back later. Guilt shot through him as Hannah stood there smiling and trusting.

“Want to go Christmas shopping?”

Hannah’s eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry, I could have sworn that you just asked me to go Christmas shopping.”

He snatched a cookie. “That’s right. You, me, Em.” He looked down at the cookie. “These are good. I don’t think Ethan needs six of them. Two is more than enough. Give him the alien cookie I made.”

“No, even Charlie wouldn’t eat those,” she said. Charlie lifted his scruffy head at the sound of his name, looked at the alien cookie, and shut his eyes again.

…

Jackson took a sip of the spicy, smooth Starbucks Holiday brew that Hannah had been relentlessly gushing about the last two weeks, while guiding Emily’s stroller along the sidewalk.

“That’s your new favorite coffee, isn’t it? Admit it,” Hannah said. He laughed, walking alongside her as they made their way home. “You’re very pushy.”

“Don’t you
love
the Christmas design on the cup?”

Jackson held up his cup. Huh. Reindeer. “I never noticed before.”

Hannah rolled her eyes. “It’s the first thing I look for in November,” she said, taking a swig.

“Please tell me you’re joking.” He smiled down at her, tempted to pull her in for a kiss, despite the crowds around them. But Hannah kept on going.

“And you secretly like Christmas shopping, don’t you?”

This was probably one of the best days of his life. He looked from the gorgeous woman at his side, decked out in a red coat and jeans, holding her giant cup of coffee, to his niece contentedly sitting in the stroller. Fat, heavy snowflakes tumbled down as they walked along downtown Toronto. He gave Hannah a smile. “Fine, I like Christmas shopping. With you and Em,” he said, slowing as they approached a streetlight.

“Oh, speaking of Christmas shopping, when do you want to deliver our gift to the Sampsons?”

Jackson groaned. “You didn’t mention anything about us delivering the gift.”

“Of course we’re going to give it to them. Don’t you think they’d love to see Emily again?” Hannah smiled up at him as they crossed the road.

Jackson spotted the man leaning against the corner of their building as soon as they stepped onto the sidewalk. The hairs on the back of his head rose instantly as their eyes made contact. Jackson slowed their pace, passing the stroller to Hannah.

“Jackson, what’s wrong?” she asked, taking the stroller.

“I want you to go inside. I’ll be up in a few minutes, okay?” He kept his eyes trained on the thin man with the disheveled hair, dirty jeans, and sweatshirt. He knew him. He
knew
that face.
Where?

“What are you talking about?”

“Just trust me.” His instincts were still sharp, fine-tuned to anything threatening. He needed to get Emily and Hannah inside. But before Hannah and Emily could get into the building, the man swaggered forward, a smirk on his unshaven face.

“Jackson Pierce?” he called out, his voice thick and confident.

“Who are you?”

“I’m that baby’s father.”

Chapter Thirteen

Jackson tried to ignore the sound of Hannah’s gasp and concentrate on this low-life.

“Like hell you are. Go inside,” he said, his eyes not leaving the man’s face. He needed to remember where he’d seen him.

“No,” he heard Hannah whisper frantically.

“Jackson Pierce, right? That’s what you’re calling yourself now?” The man smirked. Anger burst through him. This was the man claiming to be Emily’s father? Jackson reigned in every single urge he had to sink his fist into the other man’s face. Every fiber of his being wanted to hear that skinny jaw snap on impact. Revulsion slammed through him as he remembered this guy trashing his house, looking for money. This was not Emily’s father.

“I remember you,” Jackson said, keeping his voice steady.

“Glad to hear it. Too bad Louise is dead, she was a nice piece of—”

“I’d stop talking if I were you.”

The man looked at Jackson and then gave Hannah a thorough once over. “But I gotta say this one is a definite step up.”

Jackson bolted forward, pushing the man against the building, his forearm pinning him until Jackson felt him struggling under him to form words. His eye went to the small alleyway between the buildings. For a second he wished he was that adolescent that acted first and thought later.

He leaned down, letting his anger show, letting the carefully controlled emotions surface. “You stay the hell away from my family. You don’t look at my wife. You don’t talk to her. You don’t talk about her.”

“I came for the baby.”

“She’s not yours.”

“I’m willing to negotiate. Your sister always said you were gonna be rich.”

Jackson moved his face closer, disgusted by the stench of cheap liquor. “I came from nothing, just like you. I know how to fight dirty, and I swear to you I will. I will make you regret the day you ever thought about my daughter, or looked at my wife. I keep what’s mine. Don’t you forget that. So get your sorry ass away from my family.” Jackson pinned him harder against the wall, not seeing the man anymore, only the threat.

“Jackson.” Hannah’s soft voice broke through his rage. He clenched his teeth and looked over at her, took in the pallor of her face, the trembling of her chin. And all the words she’d ever spoken to him about her childhood rang through his mind, all the violence she’d had to face. He glanced down at Emily—asleep, angelic, innocent. And then he stared at the lowlife in front of him, and Jackson thought of his and Louise’s father, and he knew he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t raise his fists in anger in front of Hannah or Emily. Not ever.

“Stay the hell away from my family,” Jackson said in a low voice, before releasing him and backing away.

The man clutched his throat, trying to take deep breaths and staring at Jackson with so much hatred that Jackson knew in his gut this wasn’t over.

“Let’s go,” he said, turning to Hannah, forcing himself to calm down. He needed to be composed. He needed to be her rock. Jackson grabbed her hand and the stroller, ushering them toward the entrance. The doorman opened the doors for them and they were swallowed into the luxurious marble lobby. He turned around to look out the windows as they waited for the elevator. His eyes scanned the crowds of people, but the man was gone.

…

Hannah didn’t say a word. She couldn’t look over at Jackson. She followed him into the apartment and just stood in the entryway, vaguely aware of Jackson taking Emily out of her stroller and walking out of the room. She stood there, coat still on, listening to the sounds she’d allowed herself to get accustomed to.

When Jackson returned, his face was haggard, his eyes filled with pain. “She didn’t wake up,” he said, his voice strained. He threw his keys and coat on the leather chair at the entry. Hannah couldn’t bring herself to speak.

Jackson walked over to her. “I, uh, I’m sorry if I scared you.”

Hannah shook her head, looking up at him. He hadn’t scared her. He’d made her feel safe. He’d fought for her. In so many ways they came from the same place.

“He said he’s her father.”

Jackson nodded slowly, his lips narrowing.

Why had she let herself get her hopes up? Why did she think that things would be different this time? This was just like all the times she’d get pulled out of a good home. Someone would come to the door and tell them it was time for Hannah to leave. It was always too soon. In the good homes it was always too soon. And now it was happening to Emily. No one had loved Hannah enough to adopt her, but they loved Emily. That should be enough. This couldn’t be happening. Hannah shook her head, she couldn’t look at Jackson, couldn’t wrap her arms around him, the shock of it all immobilizing her.

Her vision blurred as she felt Jackson’s chest tuck against her, his strong arms encircling her. She felt his pain in the words that neither of them were capable of speaking. She didn’t want to turn around to face him. She shivered back the sobs that threatened as he pressed his lips against her neck. This was it—she had failed. She couldn’t save Emily. Their family was going to be ripped to shreds. They couldn’t compete against her father.

“No one can take her away from us.” She could hear the raw emotion in his voice as he whispered in her ear. She turned in his arms and looked up at him. His jaw was set, his dark eyes glittering. Hannah shook her head as his warm, strong hands cupped her face.

“You don’t understand. Her father will win…you’re just an uncle…there’s a process. We will lose against her father.”

“I’m swearing to you right now, no one is going to take Em away from us. I promise you—”

“You can’t promise, no one can. I knew this would happen. I failed her,” Hannah said clutching the fabric of his shirt.

“No you didn’t,” he whispered against her hair. “We haven’t lost yet.”

Hannah felt the kisses along her hair straight to her heart. After tonight, there would be no point in the two of them pretending to be married anymore. Her hands ran up the smooth cotton of his shirt, feeling the taught muscles clench. She tightened her hold on him. He cradled her face in his hands, kissing her with a wanting and yearning that she understood and matched kiss for kiss.

“Make it go away, Jackson, make the pain go away.” He groaned and looked down at her, restrained desire etched in his face. He reached down to cup her bottom, lifting her so that she straddled him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her mouth not leaving his. Wild and filled with a pain that was doubled because of his, they loved each other, clothes falling away, until there was nothing left between them.

Hannah reached up, tilting his head to within an inch of hers. “Now” she whispered, her words cut off as he captured her mouth in a frantic kiss and he entered her with barely restrained passion.

She felt the hard length of him. He filled her completely, filling the void, the loneliness. Until all that was left for her to do was surrender—surrender to the bliss that Jackson offered. And seconds after her world exploded, she felt him join her.

…

Jackson woke to the sound of coffee percolating and the smell of lemon cranberry muffins. He smiled faintly. In spite of everything that happened last night, the thought of Hannah still made him smile. She had spent much of the night pacing and holding Emily, and the one time when she’d been awake lying next to him, he’d made love to her slowly and sweetly until both of them forgot the pain and surrendered to the love that neither would admit out loud.

Hannah wasn’t singing that song about the five ducks this morning. He hadn’t realized how much he liked that song until now. He shrugged on a pair of jeans and walked barefoot towards the kitchen, thanking God for Hannah. They would get through this together, they would fight for Emily.

Jackson stopped cold. Her bags were piled neatly in the hallway. The holly and berry bag was stuffed with books.

“Hannah?” he called out, walking into the kitchen. She stood with her back to him. When she slowly turned around he saw streaks down her face where she’d obviously been crying. She held up her hand and those glorious green eyes filled up with tears.

“I’m leaving.”

“Why?” he felt anger and fear jog through him.

“Nicholas just called. How long have you known about Emily’s father?”

…

Hannah tried to speak past the tears.

She had picked up the phone on the first ring when she’d seen it was their lawyer, and when Nicholas had mentioned his conversation about Emily’s biological father with Jackson, she’d felt the burn of his betrayal.

Hannah wiped the tears away with trembling hands, hating standing here, like this, in the room that twenty-four hours ago had been filled with a babbling baby and a smiling Jackson. She stared at his tense face, hating how even now that he was the most gorgeous man she’d ever known.

He cringed. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t want you to panic—”

“You
lied
to me. How long have you known this?”

He looked away for a moment. “The night of our wedding.”

Hannah put her hands over her face. This was a mess. He had lied. Emily’s father was back. And she was…

“I was trying to protect you.”

“Emily is going,” she whispered, her voice shaking. He walked up to her and held her shoulders, the power in his hands reminding her of last night. The gentleness, the passion…

“No,” he said slowly. “Stop thinking like we’ve lost. Paternity results aren’t in.”

Hannah shook her head, his words not registering. “If he’s her father, he will gain custody. No matter how good Nicholas Wright is, we won’t be able to adopt her.”

“You know I will never let them take her. Think about this rationally. He’s an addict, he’s after money, not a baby. Emily is ours and we’ll never lose her. I’m a fighter and so are you.” He pulled her against him. She resisted for the briefest of seconds, not wanting to share her pain, not wanting to be comforted. But she couldn’t resist the shelter he offered and she buried her face against his chest, crying for Emily, crying for them, crying for herself. Her kingdom of dreams belonged in her books, in her fantasies. He’d broken down her walls, and she’d been seduced by his kindness, his touch, his vulnerabilities. And now she was going to lose everything.

“I can’t do it,” she said against his chest, holding him tightly.

“I’ll fight for both of us. You won’t have to say goodbye to her,” he said, his lips brushing her hair.

“You don’t understand how much this would kill me. If you care about me you have to let me go,” she whispered, still not moving away from him. She felt his body tense against her.

“Hannah,” he said, as she finally gained the strength she needed to pull herself out of his arms, out of this false sense of security.

“Please, Jackson.” She heard Emily begin to stir on the baby monitor and froze. She felt him watching her closely, and then Emily cried out again. She needed to go before he went to get Emily.

“Fine,” he said roughly. “If this is what you need to do, then go. But I swear to God, I’m going make everything right. I’m not going to lose you or Em.”

She didn’t meet his eyes, just turned and walked down the hallway, pausing to pick up her two bags. She had to get out now. She felt her body tremble as she heard Emily begin to cry, and his voice call after her. “When you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

She shut the door on his words, on Emily’s cries.