The Billionaire's Christmas Baby

So much for the lucky hat. Maybe she should rip it off and then stomp on it. She was exhausted and cold and now, thanks to Jackson Pierce, miserable. She trudged through the snow as quickly as the wind and snow would allow, her sights on the car. Emily was going to need to eat again in under an hour, and the last thing she wanted to do was pull over in the middle of nowhere to give her a bottle. Maybe she could try and knock on the door of that charming bungalow at the end of the street—it had been adorned from top to bottom in Christmas decorations and lights. Surely, whoever lived there wouldn’t turn a woman and a baby away in a blizzard.

What kind of a jerk would let a woman go out alone during a blizzard anyway?

…

What kind of a jackass yells in a woman’s face and then lets her drive away in the middle-of-nowhere Northern Ontario, during a blizzard, at night?

Jackson looked out the window at the petite brunette as she tried to brush the snow off the windshield. But every time she did, the wind would blow on even more snow. By the looks of her, one strong gust might carry her away too. Even that grandma hat she was wearing was all white with snow.

He continued to stare out the window, his fists jammed into his jeans pockets. Guilt was ripping a jagged hole through his gut, as he recalled the shocked look in her eyes. He’d been an ass. He rarely lost his cool, and yet, a few minutes ago he stood yelling at this tiny slip of a woman at his front door. Would it be so bad to let this Hannah woman spend the night? How much of a threat could a woman who barely reached the top of his chin with the pom-pom be? He’d find out what she wanted and then make it clear that he had no intention of speaking to anyone about his family. Then tomorrow morning, when the storm was over, she’d leave. Easy. Done.

Jackson shook his head as she disappeared into a giant mound of snow. With a rough sigh, and a few of his favorite curses, he shrugged into his leather, sheepskin lined jacket and flicked on the outdoor lights. One way or another, women were always complicating his life. Even when he was trying to get away from them, they found him.

“Hey!” he called out, approaching her. The snow was past his shins and showed no sign of slowing. He squinted as snow and ice pellets beat into his face and eyes. She either couldn’t hear him above the wind or she was purposely ignoring him.

She didn’t bother to look at him when he reached her side. She kept brushing off the snow with angry bursts.

A cloud of snow hit him in the face. He wasn’t so sure it was an accident.

“Look, you can spend the night here. Leave in the morning when the storm is over.”

She paused and went back to fruitlessly wiping off the windshield with one arm, while clutching a round container like a football under her other arm. He spotted a Christmas wreath attached to the front bumper of her car. He tried not to groan out loud at the absurd ornament. He had never actually met anyone who went to the trouble of decorating their car for Christmas. She was working on her side windows, still ignoring him. Stubborn was the last thing he needed right now.

“Well, we both know you can’t get anywhere with this weather tonight.” He felt the ice pellets drumming against the back of his neck like a bunch of nails. She continued to pay no attention to him. Enough was enough. He walked over and grabbed the scraper from her hand. She glared at him and yanked it back.

“I’m not staying here. You’re mentally unbalanced.”

“What were you thinking coming here alone, at night? Obviously you intended on staying.” He tried to pry the scraper out of her hand again, but it was as though that giant red mitten was super glued to the damn thing.

“Stop being a bully. I didn’t think it would take me over six hours to drive up here. I never planned on staying here, so stop flattering yourself. I don’t like you. I don’t trust you. So leave me alone and let go of my brush!”

She yelled that last part and he let go, his hands up in the air in a surrender motion. He wasn’t going to beg her to stay here.

Jackson watched as she fell backwards into a mound of snow. A tin flew in the air and what looked like cookies fell out. Uh-oh.

“My cookies!” She sputtered out and struggled into a sitting position in the snow.

He watched her collect the array of brightly colored cookies in the white snow and an odd feeling of regret came over him. Of all the absurd… Jackson felt he had no choice but to kneel down and help.

He cleared his throat, momentarily forgetting the cold. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“Save it,” she snapped and he ignored the tears he thought he heard in her voice. Not tears, please no. He found a cookie and noticed with dread that it was shaped like a Christmas tree and covered with green sparkly looking things.

Jackson tried to place the ruined cookies gently in the tin, as though there was still some hope of salvaging them. She, on the other hand, tossed them in with a force that suggested she was royally pissed. At least she wasn’t crying. Finally, she placed the lid over the round tin, banging Santa’s happy face shut with her giant red mittens.

Jackson stood up and held out his hand. She glared at his hand and stood on her own. He shouldn’t be surprised. He could have sworn he heard the word jerk, but with the howling wind he couldn’t be sure.

“Sorry about the… cookies,” he said awkwardly.

“Whatever. You’re not exactly the milk and cookies type of guy anyway. You’re more of the nails and arsenic type.”

He had to stifle his urge to smile at her insult. The cookies had been for him. The fact that he had hurt her feelings was oddly unsettling. Added to that was the fact that she had baked for him. No one baked for him, unless of course they were paid to. He wasn’t about to analyze his sudden sentimental reaction to a box of cookies. Besides, he wanted to get inside.

“Hannah, you can spend the night here.”

She frowned up at him. “I’d rather sleep in my car.”

Jackson gritted his teeth. It was damned irritating dealing with someone more mule-headed than he was always accused of being. Cookies or not, this was supposed to be his time away from stress…from civilization. This cabin was his anti-Christmas sanctuary, a place where there was no talk of family. No talk of Christmas. The only evergreens were outside and not one of them had a single damn light on them, just the way he liked it. But now he was being forced to harbor some strange woman who knew a hell of a lot about him and who had something to do with his sister.

He watched as she continued to brush the snow off her pants with one hand and hold that tin with the other. “Look, I’m not going to let you sleep in your car during a blizzard.”

She stopped her swiping and cocked her head to the side. “Well, I guess you should have thought of that when you slammed the door in my face. It’s not exactly the best way to make a guest feel welcome.”

Jackson opened his mouth and then shut it, not knowing what to say. He was not a man used to being argued with. He had gotten used to the quick “yes, sirs” that he received from his employees.

She shot him a dirty look as she walked past him. He caught her arm. For a moment nothing happened and then she turned into steel beneath his grasp. Her eyes widened and she stared at him. He was trying to decipher the expression when she jerked her arm from his grasp. He noticed her breathing was shallow and rapid. That confidence she had shown only seconds before was gone. This woman felt threatened by him. His exes could say a lot about him, but violent was not an adjective used to describe him. He abhorred physical violence, and he’d never touched a woman in anger.

“I can’t let you stay out here. I have a guest room,” he said, trying his best to sound patient and calm.

She stared at him for another minute, then raised her eyebrows as she spoke. “Are you going to yell at me again?”

He shook his head sheepishly. He felt like he was being reprimanded like a small boy. Her face relaxed and she gave him a slight nod. “Fine. I’ve met crazier people than you and I know how to handle myself. I’ll stay.”

He stared at her incredulously. She’d called him crazy.

“On one condition,” she said raising her chin and folding her arms.

“Condition?” She had barged in on his vacation and now she was negotiating terms of her stay?

She nodded once, the pom-pom bopping with the motion.

He gave a brief nod, why the hell not, it seemed he had very little control of the night anyway.

“No yelling in front of the baby,” she said over her shoulder as she opened the back door of her car. Her head disappeared into the car and he stared numbly after her. Maybe he hadn’t heard right, but then he heard an odd noise.

“Baby?” he finally managed to choke out through a throat that seemed to be filled with tar as she emerged from the car holding a baby seat.

Chapter Two

Hannah put on her best poker face as the wind whipped strands of her hair around her head while Jackson stared at her. She knew her knees were shaking and it was only partly due to the cold. Jackson Pierce had a stare that could send a man running. She saw his eyes shift to Emily’s car seat. He couldn’t see the baby because she had a pink blanket covering the opening.