The Billionaire's Christmas Baby(3)

“Do you need help?” His voice. Sort of like smooth silk and rough suede. Unfortunately, his carefully enunciated question also implied that he thought she was mentally challenged.

It was now or never. She cleared her throat and was sure to maintain eye contact.

“Are you Christopher James?” she blurted out, deciding to use his real name at the last minute.

His brown brows snapped together. He pushed away from the doorjamb, and stood straight up. Suddenly he looked much more intimidating, and not at all nice.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Hannah Woods. Look, I’m sorry to bother you—” She took a deep breath. “I’m here because of your sister, Louise.” Self-preservation was a skill she’d learned early in her life, and right now her instincts were telling her to run in the other direction.

“I don’t have a sister.”

Hannah cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. I know that—”

He scowled. “What? What do you know?”

“I know that you changed your name and—”

He slammed the door in her face and Hannah was in disbelief. She stood still and stared at the black door. One thing was for sure—Jackson Pierce or Christopher James or whatever his name was, was definitely not a Christmas sugar cookie kind of man. What had she been thinking anyway? That she could shove cookies down the man’s throat while having a heart-to-heart about his sister and abandoned niece?

Tears began to blur her vision as she stared at the bare door, the reality of her situation setting it. Emily’s temporary foster placement with Mrs. Ford would end soon and after that Hannah would have very little control over what happened to the baby. Hannah had fought vigorously to have the woman be Emily’s interim guardian. Mrs. Ford was one of the best foster parents she’d ever come across. Hannah had gone to visit Emily every day after work. Spending time with the baby had become the highlight of her day. Hannah had been able to sleep at night, knowing the baby was in good hands while she searched for her uncle. It was Mrs. Ford’s faith in her that allowed Hannah to take Emily to find her uncle without going through the child welfare office. There was no way Hannah’s boss would have given her approval.

Hannah clutched the tin tightly to her chest and tried to ignore the lump in her throat that she suspected was due in part to feeling like a moron and in part to desperation. She would not cry. She did not cry. Before the night she’d found Emily, she hadn’t cried in years. What was she going to do? The man she had gambled on was nastier than a man that good-looking had any right to be. And to top it all off, she was in the middle of nowhere during a blizzard with a two month old baby and only her car for shelter.

She squinted against the wind, looking at the car. She had to make a move and fast. She pictured little Emily being removed from Mrs. Ford’s care. What if they didn’t find permanent placement for her? Emily could have years and years of being shuffled around, never having a home of her own. Hannah knew all about that. She wasn’t going to let that happen to this baby.

The minute she had picked up that baby outside the church she knew it was for a reason. Louise believed in her. And Louise believed in her brother. There had to be more to this man than what she’d just witnessed. She owed it to Louise. She had to honor Louise’s wishes, no matter how miserable of a man Emily’s uncle was. She couldn’t chicken out now.

Hannah took a deep breath, straightened out her not at all fashionable hat, and knocked on the door again. She didn’t know what she was going to say, but Jackson Pierce was not going to get rid of her that easily. Adrenaline and panic intertwined and wove their way through her body as she gave herself a mental pep talk. She wasn’t a quitter. Emily needed her.

There was no answer.

She ripped off her mitten and pounded. Hard. But there was still no answer.

Fine. Jackson Pierce thought he was stubborn? Well, he was about to meet his match. She lifted her foot and gave the door a swift, hard kick. Just as she was about to give it another one worthy of a champion soccer player, he whipped open the door. She struggled not to fall backwards as she almost lost her balance. She quickly lowered her foot, composed herself, and forced a smile on her face.

He didn’t smile back.

“Look, Mr. Pierce, this is a matter of life or death.”

He raised his eyebrows, clearly unimpressed. “Whose death?”

She frowned at him. “It’s really a matter of life, actually.”

“What’s your name again?”

“Hannah, Hannah Woods.” She was relieved by his more reasonable tone. The life or death line was always a winner at getting someone to take her seriously.

“Do you realize, Hannah Woods, that you are trespassing on private property?”

Okay, so maybe that line didn’t work on Mr. Pierce. She felt her insides twist into a knot as she stared into hostile brown eyes.

She nodded carefully. “Yes, I realize that. I don’t usually do this sort of thing, but your sister Louise died…”

He cursed loudly. “And let me guess, she left a pile of bills?”

She shook her head. She was about to explain when he cut her off.

“I don’t associate with money-grubbing, junkie friends of my sister. So get your ass off my property and—”

“I’m not a friend of your sister’s.”