The Billionaire in Her Bed (Worthington Family) Read online

  “You four could double date.” Her mother rubbed her manicured hands together, practically salivating onto her salad plate. “I’m sure if Brooke could find a nice young man instead of the degenerates she seems to gravitate to, she’d settle down and get married, maybe start a family.”

  “I’ve found a nice young man,” Brooke blurted without thinking, wishing as soon as the words were out of her mouth that she could yank them back. Where in holy freaking hell had that come from? Not two seconds after vowing to compartmentalize her life and she’d already let Eli escape from his damn box.

  Her mother’s head snapped up like someone had mentioned a sale at Barneys. “Who is he? Do we know him? What does he do? Is it serious? Why didn’t you bring him?”

  Five questions without taking a breath. Another record. Her mother was in rare form today, even for her, and she wasn’t going to be satisfied until Brooke threw her a bone or two.

  Brooke reached for her half-empty glass. Where was that waiter? She needed that juice-less refill like yesterday. “Which one of those do you want me to answer first?”

  Her mother waved a hand. “Take your pick.”

  Fine. She’d give her mother enough information to make her squirm. “His name’s Eli Ward.”

  “The real estate developer?” her father said, sounding positively gleeful. “One of Fortune’s forty under forty most influential people in business?”

  “He and his sister run a charitable foundation,” her mother added. “Something about girls and science. Such a worthy cause. We’re hosting their black-tie fundraiser next month at the hotel. I expect you’ll join us.”

  Brooke drained the last of her drink. “Not my Eli. Sorry to disappoint you, but Ward’s a pretty common name.”

  Her Eli. She tried to ignore the frisson of excitement the words sent through her. Not mine. We’re not in a relationship.

  “How did you two meet?” Mallory asked.

  Abort, abort. Brooke was so not going there with her parents in earshot. That sordid tale would only confirm her mother’s worst fears about her disreputable daughter. “He’s my neighbor. He moved in a few weeks ago.”

  She was saved from any more of her family’s version of the Spanish Inquisition by the simultaneous appearance of their waiter and the dinging of her cell phone. She glanced at the screen and saw a text from Charise.

  Mom sick. Can you watch Jaden? Boss says he’ll fire me if I’m late one more time.

  Hallelujah. A genuine emergency. A miracle on par with the loaves and the fishes. Or 1980’s “Miracle on Ice” United States men’s Olympic hockey team.

  She banged out a quick text to let Charise know she was on her way and stood. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but I have to get back to Brooklyn. My neighbor’s in trouble.”

  “Eli?” her mother asked, her lips pursing in disapproval.

  “I do have other neighbors, you know.” For now. Rumors had been swirling that a potential buyer was sniffing around Candy Court. But Brooke was ready for him, whoever he was. She’d already contacted the preservation commission about having the hundred-year-old building designated a historic landmark. If that effort was successful, the new owner would have his hands tied when it came to renovations. Without the threat of a major overhaul, hopefully Brooke and the other tenants would be allowed to stay and live in peace.

  She threw down a twenty-dollar bill and hitched her hobo bag over her shoulder. “That should more than cover my share.”

  Her father pushed it back toward her, a game they played at all of their monthly brunches. She ignored it. “Until next time. It was nice meeting you, Hunter.”

  Not.

  Her sister mimed a phone with her thumb and pinkie finger, held it up to her ear, and mouthed, “Call me.”

  Brooke mouthed back, “Will do,” and headed to the coat check to retrieve her jacket before either of her parents could protest. She needed to talk to her baby sister about her less than stellar taste in men, that was for sure. And soon.

  But first she had a baby to sit.

  Chapter Eight

  Fifteen minutes alone with the kid, and Eli was already sure of two things. One, babies ate a lot. And two, everything they ate, they either spit up or shat out.

  He stripped off his puke-stained shirt and checked his watch again. It was up to eighteen minutes now. Eighteen long, excruciating minutes since Charise had banged on his door and begged him to come sit with Jaden until Brooke got back from Manhattan.

  He didn’t know she’d gone into the city. Not that she needed to apprise him of her every move. He was confident enough not to control the women he dated. If that’s what he and Brooke were doing.

  At some point, they’d have to figure it out. But that meant he’d have to come clean about who he was and why he was there, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to do that without risking whatever it was they had together. Especially now that he’d signed a letter of intent for the Hearthstone Group—the new LLC he’d formed—to buy Candy Court. If that cheating bastard Simon had the balls to try to enforce the non-compete clause in their partnership agreement—well, Eli would let their lawyers hash that out.

  He couldn’t wait for the mess at Momentum to get cleared up. He’d hired a private investigator to tail Dupree, hoping that would lead to the mole, but so far he’d come up empty. If Eli didn’t act fast on Candy Court, someone else would. The building was too good a deal to pass up.

  But so was Brooke. She was the real deal. A woman who saw him for who he was, not what kind of car he drove or how much he had in his bank account or who he could introduce her to. Instead of going to stuffy museums and expensive restaurants, they’d spent the past few weeks discovering Brooklyn’s simpler pleasures—and their nights discovering each other’s bodies. So far, everything he’d uncovered he liked, about the borough and the bartender. More than liked, if he was being truthful.

  Eli raked a hand through his hair and swore under his breath. How the hell had he gotten himself into this impossible situation? And how the hell was he going to get out of it with his business—and his manhood—intact?

  A piercing wail brought him back to the problem at hand.

  “All right, big guy.” Eli tossed his shirt into the sink to be rinsed out later—good thing it was one of Ginny’s Wal-Mart specials and not a designer label—and plucked a freshly wiped and diapered Jaden out of his bouncy seat. “Let’s try this again.”

  Second time had to be the charm. After a little bit of fumbling with the bottle Charise had thrust in his hand on her way out the door, he settled onto one of the chairs at her tiny kitchen table, cradling Jaden against his bare chest. The kid wasn’t going to get him this time if he could help it. “Okay, buddy. I ditched the shirt. Try to steer clear of the pants.”

  He nestled the baby’s head in the crook of his arm and held the bottle to his lips. He’d never fed a baby before, but it didn’t seem that hard, except for the whole spitting up thing. Something that, according to Google, was easily remedied by periodic burping.

  Jaden’s squalling stopped, and he latched onto the bottle, his little cheeks caving in with the effort of sucking down milk as fast as he could. Eli tilted the bottle upward—another trick he’d learned in his Google search—and stared down. Kids weren’t something he’d spent a lot of time thinking about. He’d always assumed he’d find the right woman and get around to having one or two someday, but with his busy career, that day was in the distant future. Suddenly—shockingly—that future didn’t seem so distant anymore. And the woman in it was a smart-mouthed, curvy brunette.

  The doorknob clicked, and Eli looked up to see said brunette burst into the room, frazzled but still beautiful, her hair streaming behind her and her face red from the still chilly early-March air. “Ohmigod, Charise, I hope I’m not too late. The D-train took forever to show up and…”

  Her eyes found him, and she stopped mid-sentence. Her oversize bag fell to the floor with a heavy thud, making him wonder what the hell sh
e kept in there.

  “Not Charise,” he said with a wicked grin.

  “I can see that.” Her gaze lingered on the baby snuggled against his bare chest, and he thought he heard her mumble something about her ovaries exploding.

  He choked back a laugh. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

  Her reddened cheeks flushed even more. “What can I say? A shirtless man feeding a baby. It’s ridiculously hot.”

  “Any shirtless man?” He shifted Jaden to his other arm.

  “I plead the fifth.” She scanned the apartment. “Where’s Charise?”

  “She had to get to work. I offered to fill in until you got here.”

  “Offered?” Brooke unbuttoned her coat and hung it over the back of a chair. “Or was drafted?”

  “Now it’s my turn to plead the fifth.”

  “I suppose she made you take your shirt off, too. Or was that your idea?”

  “No, that was this little fellow.” He glanced down at Jaden, who was still slurping away like a champ. “We had a slight accident our first go-round.”

  She took a seat opposite him. “Pee, poop, or puke?”

  “All of the above.”

  “Ouch.” She held out her arms. “Why don’t you let me take over?”

  The bottle was almost empty, and Jaden’s eyes were drooping. Eli pried the nipple out of his mouth and moved him to his shoulder. “I’m fine.”

  “You sure are.” Her gaze strayed back to his chest before returning to meet his. “But that’s beside the point. The cavalry’s here. You’re relieved from duty.”

  “If you insist.” He handed over the sleepy baby. “Want me to stick around? I could burp him or bathe him or something.”

  Or tell you who I am.

  He slapped that thought down. It was too soon. He wasn’t close to owning the building yet. A million things could happen to squash the deal. Until he was sure of the outcome, he was keeping his mouth shut. Why stir up unnecessary problems?

  Brooke expertly transferred Jaden to her shoulder and began patting his back. “Don’t you have some place better to be?”

  “Nowhere I can think of.” The truth of his words surprised him, and not in a bad way. They were back to playing house, but this time with a little addition to their faux family. Like a dutiful father, he picked up a dishtowel and held it out to her. “You might want to use this. Trust me. He’s prolific. And he’s got a range that rivals an ICBM.”

  “Thanks.” She took the towel and draped it over her shoulder. “He’s about to pass out. We could watch a movie after I put him down. I know where Charise keeps her DVDs. With any luck, she’s got something other than Sesame Street and Baby Einstein. Or I can run to my place and pick something from my stash.”

  “As long as it has a car chase, an explosion, or a completely gratuitous sex scene. Bonus points for all three.”

  “So no chick flicks?”

  He shuddered. “Heaven forbid.”

  “Fine. I’ll save Crazy, Stupid, Love for another day. Although it has like the best, most epic fight scene ever.” The baby let out a loud burp. Brooke gave him one last pat and wiped his mouth with the towel.

  “I’ll make it up to you. I saw some microwave popcorn in the cabinet when I was looking for a bib.”

  “Butter flavor?”

  “I think so.”

  “Then consider us even.” She stood, crossed the open loft, and put the now fully asleep Jaden in his bassinet. “And for the love of God, put a shirt on.”

  “What’s wrong?” He rose to join her, coming up behind her and banding his arms around her waist. “Too distracting for you in all my half-naked male glory?”

  She leaned her head back against his shoulder, a teasing smile playing around the corners of her lips. “I have a hard time keeping my hands off you when you’re fully dressed. Half naked it’s practically impossible.”

  He inhaled the soft scent of her shampoo. Orange blossoms and coconut. “Who said you had to keep your hands off me?”

  “In case you’ve forgotten, there’s a baby in the room.”

  “He’s sleeping.” Eli turned Brooke in his arms so she faced him and rested his forehead against hers. “And I’m not suggesting we get busy on Charise’s couch. But a good, old-fashioned make-out session’s not going to scar the kid if he wakes up.”

  She sighed, the low, breathy sound going straight to his groin. “We’ll see.”

  He bent to touch his lips to hers, but she stopped him with a not-so-subtle shove to the chest, forcing him to take a step back. For a split second, he thought he’d offended her, until he saw the mischievous sparkle in her bright, green eyes. “But not until you put on a damn shirt. Otherwise I can’t guarantee we’ll stop at kissing.”

  …

  The fitted white T-shirt Eli returned in was only slightly less distracting than his magnificently naked chest, but Brooke supposed it would have to do.

  The day had definitely taken a turn for the better. Not that it was possible for it to get much worse than the disastrous brunch with her parents. But walking in on Eli, shirtless and sexy, holding Jaden like he was the most precious thing in the world…yowza. It hadn’t hurt that he’d looked completely at home doing it, feeding the kid like a pro. She could almost imagine him with their child…

  Stop. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. What was wrong with her? In the span of a subway ride, she’d gone from swearing off relationships to having his baby, just from watching him wield a bottle. Without a shirt.

  Swoon.

  “How’s this?” her fantasy baby daddy asked, strutting into the apartment and striking a hilariously bad runway model pose that he somehow managed to make look hot. Of course, she thought pretty much everything he did looked hot, so who was she to judge? “Think you can control yourself around me?”

  “I’ll do my best.” She held up a DVD case. “Lethal Weapon okay?”

  “Wait, we’re seriously watching a movie? I thought we were going to have a little face time. And I’m not talking about on our iPhones.”

  She gave his shoulder a playful push. “You have a one-track mind.”

  He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, a self-satisfied smirk plastered across his face. “Is that a complaint or a compliment?”

  She nudged him toward the sofa. “Sit down and shut up, and maybe you’ll get lucky.”

  “What about the popcorn?”

  “I figured we’d skip that. Nothing kills the mood more than kernels stuck in your teeth.”

  “Can’t disagree with you there. I’d suggest a glass of wine, but we’re on baby duty.”

  If her ovaries weren’t toast already, they were now. Apparently maturity and a sense of responsibility were her new aphrodisiacs. “Charise usually keeps iced tea and bottled water in the fridge.”

  “Iced tea sounds great.”

  To her, too. Eli made himself comfortable on the couch while Brooke did a quick check on Jaden—still out cold—then got their drinks and popped the DVD into the player.

  “Ready?” She grabbed the remote and settled down next to him.

  “For anything.” He put an arm around her and scooted her closer, dropping a kiss on the top of her head.

  She pointed the remote at the TV and pressed play. The opening credits scrolled across the screen, and Jingle Bell Rock blasted through the tinny TV speakers. She frantically lowered the volume. “Don’t want to wake the baby.”

  Eli trailed a finger down her arm from her elbow to her wrist, a casual gesture that spoke volumes and sent an avalanche of tingles racing through her body. “We sure as hell don’t.”

  Brooke sat back, resting her head against his shoulder, and tried to concentrate on the movie. No easy task, with his hand idly tracing a path up and down her arm and his breath stirring the hair at her temple and his heart beating a steady tattoo she could feel through her sweater. Not to mention his rock-hard thigh pressed against hers.

  She reached for her glass of tea
on the military-style foot locker Charise had cleverly converted into a coffee table, hoping it would cool her down and stop her from climbing onto Eli’s lap and straddling him. Letting him help babysit wasn’t her brightest idea, on par with the time she brought her mother’s one-of-a-kind sapphire-and-diamond bracelet to school for show-and-tell. He was so close, and he looked and felt and smelled so good. Like cedar and sandalwood, a heady combination. What had made her think she could keep her hormones in check around him, even with his stupid shirt on?

  She drained her glass and put it back on the makeshift table. With a groan, she stretched out her legs in front of her, flexing her toes in her boots.

  “Long day?” he asked.

  “You can say that again.”

  His hands moved to her shoulders, kneading the tight muscles of her back and neck. “That bad?”

  “I’d rather not talk about it.” She wasn’t wading into that minefield. Talk about a mood-killer. Ten thousand times worse than a few harmless kernels of popcorn wedged between the incisors. She closed her eyes, let her head fall back, and groaned again. “Damn, that feels good.”

  “That’s the general idea.” He fingered the neckline of her cardigan. “It’ll feel better if you lose this.”

  “Be my guest.”

  She held her arms out, and he peeled the sweater off. He laid it over the back of the couch and put one hand on either side of her spine, massaging in parallel lines all the way down her back to the top of her buttocks. Then he slid his hands back up to her neck, over her shoulders, and down her arms to her fingertips, his touch light and teasing.

  She shivered, her girl parts jumping up and down and doing flips. “Where did you learn to do that?”

  “I dated a girl who was a physical therapist for the Rangers.”

  “I’ll bet she got you free tickets, too.”

  “On occasion.”

  “Nice fringe benefits.”

  His voice deepened, and he put his lips to her ear. “She’s got nothing on you.”

  Without warning he bent, picked up her foot and pulled off her boot.