The Billionaire's Christmas Baby(45)

…

Jackson stared down at the woman sleeping so peacefully in his arms and wondered how his life had seemed meaningful before her. He hadn’t been living for anyone but himself, and now he was living for her and Emily. He bent to kiss the top of her head, the gesture coming so naturally to him when it never had before. He heard her soft sigh and a tiny smile appeared at one corner of her luscious mouth. She curled deeper into him and continued sleeping. He didn’t think anything had ever felt so damn right as it did right now, with Hannah in his arms and Emily’s adoption being processed. Nothing would ever come between them.

The vibration of his BlackBerry on the nightstand beside him sounded loud and harsh. He gently untangled himself from Hannah and reached for his phone. It was his lawyer, Nicholas Wright. He, Nick, and Ethan had all gone to college together and Nick was someone he considered to be a good friend as well as the best lawyer in town. Jackson stood, pulling the duvet over Hannah, and shrugging into his boxers. He left the room, answering the call as he shut the door.

“Jackson, I’m sorry to call you so late. I’ve been trying to reach you all day,” Nicholas said, his voice sounding no more grim than usual.

“Yeah, I was busy getting married, remember?” Jackson said dryly, standing in front of the windows in the living room.

“Good, good. And that went well?”

Jackson chuckled. “Well, she didn’t leave me at the altar, so I guess that’s a good sign.”

When he didn’t hear his friend laugh on the other end, he knew it was serious.

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but child services was contacted by a man claiming to be Emily’s father.”

Emily’s father. Those words ricocheted through his body until he felt ill. “There is no father,” he whispered raggedly, looking over his shoulder at the closed bedroom door.


“We don’t know that it’s her father for sure. We’ll check this out, get the paternity tests done. There’s no reason to panic.”

“Who is he, Nick? If he was with my sister, he’s an addict. He’s probably after money. We can buy him off—”

“We have to do this by the book if we want to secure permanent custody. He’s not in town. We’ll know more when he gets here.”

“My sister didn’t know anyone that was decent enough to be able to raise a child. You have the note Louise left. It has my name on it. I’m that baby’s family,” he said, his hand tightening painfully around the phone.

“I know, I know. Like I said, don’t panic yet. This could be nothing. I just wanted you to be aware of what was happening.”

Jackson took a deep breath, thinking of the woman sleeping in his bed. She finally trusted him. He wasn’t going to let her down. He wasn’t going to let his niece down, or his sister. He’d been given a second chance and no one would get in the way of that.

“Keep me posted.” He threw his phone onto the couch and ran his hands down his face with a sigh. What was he going to tell Hannah? He played out each scenario in his head and guilt ripped through him. But seeing Hannah’s gorgeous face filled with pain over something that might not even be real made the decision easier for him. He wasn’t going to tell her anything. It might just be a false alarm. Why should he get her worried for no reason?

He stared out the window and then at his reflection. His mother was dead. His father was dead. His sister was dead. It was just him and Emily. They were family and he could never let her go now. Feelings of protectiveness ignited a part of him he thought had been dead after Louise. No one was going to come in and threaten the life they were going to build.

Jackson paused at the doorway of the bedroom, watching Hannah sleep. Peaceful. Beautiful. He hated that he was going to lie, knowing it was the only way to keep her from pain. But the serenity on her face reinforced that he was making the right decision by not telling her. She deserved happiness.

She opened her eyes, and his gut clenched as she immediately looked over for him.

“Hi,” he said walking into the room, pushing aside his guilt. He was doing this for her, that’s all he had to remember.

“That was better than I ever thought possible,” she whispered.

Jackson smiled, startled by her candor. He climbed into bed next to her, kissing her smooth shoulder. He felt goose bumps rise on her soft skin.

“Oh, I knew this was possible.” He inhaled her fragrant skin, unable to keep his hands and mouth off her.

“Do you remember that day at the cabin when you found my stash of books?” she asked, completely taking him by surprise. He nodded.

“I started reading romance a long time ago.” The corner of her mouth curled upward slightly, but somehow he knew it wasn’t the smile of a person about to recount a happy tale of their youth. Maybe because he felt like he knew her so well already, or maybe it was because he understood that posture, that rueful smile, as one he’d practiced many times.

“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.”