The Billionaire's Christmas Baby(18)

He shook his head. “The cabin.”

She frowned at him. “I told you, I want you to adopt your sister’s baby.”

He nodded and shrugged gently. She refused to be taken in by the display of muscles that that one little move caused to ripple through his upper body. Concentrate.

“I know, you said that, but you can’t possibly do this for all your cases. You drove through a blizzard. You tracked down a guy who changed his name, which you must’ve pulled a hell of a lot of strings to do. This goes beyond job dedication, don’t you think?”

She stared up at the ceiling, trying not to reveal any emotion. She couldn’t exactly explain something that she’d barely figured out herself. “I feel responsible, you know? I got to know your sister. I never thought she would have—” She paused for a moment. “Killed herself and then when I found Emily on the church doorstep, I—” She tried to hide the emotion in her throat but couldn’t control the catch. “I knew I had to do what’s best for her. I brought her home that night and held her. She’s this tiny, perfect, innocent little girl. She deserves the best, not to be cast aside and left with strangers. She needs someone to protect her, to give her a wonderful, happy childhood.” She stopped talking because she wouldn’t be able to hold back her pain anymore, or the rest of the truth. Lying in his bed like this made her realize how much was missing from her life. In the darkness of the night, in the warm shelter from the storm, the enigmatic man beside her made her yearn for so much—someone to speak with in the dead of the night, someone to share a bed with.

“I should go… to sleep.”
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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.