The Billionaire's Christmas Baby(16)

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.

“I’m sorry about last night. And obviously, I don’t expect you to leave today.”

She took a sip of her coffee, wrapping her hands around the oversized cup. She had delicate hands. Her nails weren’t long, but nicely shaped. They didn’t have a French manicure or god-awful loud color on them… wait a second, when the hell did he even look at a woman’s hand… other than to see if there was a wedding ring on it? She looked into her cup. She hadn’t said anything yet and he realized that he was anxious for her response. Anxious in that sort of way that told him he cared about her feelings. Crap. First the nails, now the feelings.

“I was kind of worried about how we would get back in this weather,” she said with a twinkle in her eye, her lips curling up into a deliciously alluring smile. He needed a drink, but it was way too early in the day for that.

“Look, let’s call a truce okay? I think I’ve already made it clear that your plan doesn’t really…work for me. If we talk about it again, we’re going to end up arguing. You’ve got to understand that I have no intention of ever going along with this.”

The warmth in her eyes disappeared and was replaced by a fiery sheen. Hell, she probably had as big a temper as he. Her full lips were pinched and thin, and he bet she held back a long string of curses. Too bad. He got up and rummaged through the cupboards, aware that she was watching him, fuming. “What would you like for breakfast?” He forced himself to sound nonchalant.

“How about a knife? You can stick it right through my heart.”

He didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or groan with frustration. He was going to ignore the bait. “It must be hours since you’ve eaten. Is cereal okay? I have muffins too.”

“Not hungry.”

He turned around to look at her. Her leg was crossed over the other and she drummed her fingers against the table. He sighed. “No point in starving yourself because you’re pissed at me.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Fine. I’ll heat up a muffin. Lemon cranberry,” he said when she continued to stonewall him.

“You bake?”

He shook his head, insanely relieved that she was speaking to him again. “My housekeeper does. She freezes a bunch of stuff for me to bring when I come up here.”

“So you have a lot of help at home?” she asked, looking innocent. She folded her hands neatly in her lap. He already knew her better than that.

“I’m a busy man. I work late hours. Very late. Not family man type hours,” he said, enunciating every word to make it clear that he knew exactly what she was getting at. The microwave beeped and he set the muffins in front of her. He sat down and waited for her to take a muffin before grabbing one himself.

“Ah, so you have everything then.”

He gave a terse nod.

“You have money, a penthouse, a company, a cabin,” she said, popping a piece of the muffin into her mouth

“Yes.”

“I mean, what more could there possibly be in life other than money, assets, and work?” She put another piece of muffin in her mouth and he lost his appetite. Who was she to judge him?

The sound of a baby’s cry prevented him from making a retort. Hannah jumped up, pulled out a bottle from the fridge, and dropped it in the small pot already filled with water on the stove. The baby. That baby was his niece. His sister’s responsibility. Not his.

He stood up so fast his chair nearly toppled over. “Do you mind if I go do some work?”

He could tell she was surprised at his abrupt interruption. She shook her head and licked her lips again. Yeah, he was so outta here. He refilled his cup of coffee and walked out of the kitchen.