The Billionaire's Christmas Baby

“So what do I do?”

“We’re going to roll this out and then make different Christmas shapes. Since you don’t have any cookie cutters, we have to make them by hand.”

He frowned. “Christmas shapes?”

He watched as she rolled the dough until it was thin and smooth. She let out an exasperated sigh. “Christmas trees, bells, angels, you know, anything Christmas-y.”

“Right,” he said with a decisive nod. He grabbed a piece of the dough and concentrated on making a tree, while the sound of Christmas songs floated into the kitchen. Before Hannah, not one Christmas carol had ever been heard in his penthouse.

“What is that! That looks like some sort of alien!” Hannah’s shriek of laughter made Jackson look down at the cookie he was making. It did resemble an alien. He frowned and looked over at hers. Sure enough, she could make a perfectly shaped tree. He thought of something then, the memory of that night that now seemed so long ago.

“Hannah,” he said, grabbing her by the waist, not caring that both their hands were filled with cookie dough as she willingly stepped into his arms. “I’m sorry about those damn cookies,” he said gruffly, leaning down to capture her lips. She kissed him back easily and lovingly.

“You’ve been sampling cookies,” he said between kisses. She pulled him closer, tugging at the back of his neck, and pretty soon Jackson was trying to decide whether or not she’d yell at him if he swept all her cookie dough off the counter and made love to her right then and there.

Jackson spotted her book bag by the kitchen table, reminding him that she still hadn’t unpacked. Whenever she was done studying for the night, she’d pack up her books and stuff them into that Christmas bag. Even though he’d offered to share his home office space with her, she insisted it was more convenient for her to just store everything in her bag. She hadn’t used her side of the closet for more than the wedding dress. She just kept a suitcase open on his luggage rack in the corner.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You’re actually asking my permission?” she said with a teasing smile.

“I try to be a gentleman,” he said making a subtle attempt at snatching a cookie. She swatted his hand away.

“Why haven’t you used any of the money I gave you?”

Her face went white then red.

“I haven’t needed it.” She shrugged, and then busied herself with plucking apart the gobs of dough he’d grouped together on the cookie pan.

“You haven’t needed it?” He tried to be patient. She shook her head, tossing her hair over her shoulders, and he had to stifle a ripple of desire as the scent of her shampoo wafted over. “How did you pay for your tuition?”

She averted her eyes. “I charged it to one of my cards.”

“It’s ridiculous for you to go into debt when I’ve got more than enough to pay for your tuition.”

She lifted her chin defiantly. “I’m not going into debt.”

“Really? Then why would you charge your tuition to your credit card?”

“To get Air Miles, Jackson.”

Air Miles. He took a deep breath. He needed to count to ten. “Planning on going somewhere?”

She shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. “But I would bring you along if I were planning a trip.”

“That’s good to know,” he said, moving a step closer to her. It was hard to stay mad at her. “But remember the deal we made. I’m paying your tuition.”

“The deal I was forced into?”

“As I recall, Hannah, you were the one pounding down my door during a blizzard—”

“Only to have you slam it in my face.”

The phone rang. It took them both a moment to register what the interruption was. Jackson leaned down to give her one more kiss, loving how disheveled she looked.

“Who is that?” Hannah asked, trying to straighten out her clothes as he glanced at the caller ID.

He put the phone back in his pocket. “Just work.” He hated lying to her, but he’d have to call Nick back later. Guilt shot through him as Hannah stood there smiling and trusting.

“Want to go Christmas shopping?”

Hannah’s eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry, I could have sworn that you just asked me to go Christmas shopping.”

He snatched a cookie. “That’s right. You, me, Em.” He looked down at the cookie. “These are good. I don’t think Ethan needs six of them. Two is more than enough. Give him the alien cookie I made.”

“No, even Charlie wouldn’t eat those,” she said. Charlie lifted his scruffy head at the sound of his name, looked at the alien cookie, and shut his eyes again.

…

Jackson took a sip of the spicy, smooth Starbucks Holiday brew that Hannah had been relentlessly gushing about the last two weeks, while guiding Emily’s stroller along the sidewalk.

“That’s your new favorite coffee, isn’t it? Admit it,” Hannah said. He laughed, walking alongside her as they made their way home. “You’re very pushy.”

“Don’t you love the Christmas design on the cup?”

Jackson held up his cup. Huh. Reindeer. “I never noticed before.”

Hannah rolled her eyes. “It’s the first thing I look for in November,” she said, taking a swig.

“Please tell me you’re joking.” He smiled down at her, tempted to pull her in for a kiss, despite the crowds around them. But Hannah kept on going.

“And you secretly like Christmas shopping, don’t you?”

This was probably one of the best days of his life. He looked from the gorgeous woman at his side, decked out in a red coat and jeans, holding her giant cup of coffee, to his niece contentedly sitting in the stroller. Fat, heavy snowflakes tumbled down as they walked along downtown Toronto. He gave Hannah a smile. “Fine, I like Christmas shopping. With you and Em,” he said, slowing as they approached a streetlight.

“Oh, speaking of Christmas shopping, when do you want to deliver our gift to the Sampsons?”

Jackson groaned. “You didn’t mention anything about us delivering the gift.”

“Of course we’re going to give it to them. Don’t you think they’d love to see Emily again?” Hannah smiled up at him as they crossed the road.

Jackson spotted the man leaning against the corner of their building as soon as they stepped onto the sidewalk. The hairs on the back of his head rose instantly as their eyes made contact. Jackson slowed their pace, passing the stroller to Hannah.

“Jackson, what’s wrong?” she asked, taking the stroller.

“I want you to go inside. I’ll be up in a few minutes, okay?” He kept his eyes trained on the thin man with the disheveled hair, dirty jeans, and sweatshirt. He knew him. He knew that face. Where?

“What are you talking about?”

“Just trust me.” His instincts were still sharp, fine-tuned to anything threatening. He needed to get Emily and Hannah inside. But before Hannah and Emily could get into the building, the man swaggered forward, a smirk on his unshaven face.

“Jackson Pierce?” he called out, his voice thick and confident.

“Who are you?”

“I’m that baby’s father.”

Chapter Thirteen

Jackson tried to ignore the sound of Hannah’s gasp and concentrate on this low-life.

“Like hell you are. Go inside,” he said, his eyes not leaving the man’s face. He needed to remember where he’d seen him.

“No,” he heard Hannah whisper frantically.

“Jackson Pierce, right? That’s what you’re calling yourself now?” The man smirked. Anger burst through him. This was the man claiming to be Emily’s father? Jackson reigned in every single urge he had to sink his fist into the other man’s face. Every fiber of his being wanted to hear that skinny jaw snap on impact. Revulsion slammed through him as he remembered this guy trashing his house, looking for money. This was not Emily’s father.

“I remember you,” Jackson said, keeping his voice steady.

“Glad to hear it. Too bad Louise is dead, she was a nice piece of—”

“I’d stop talking if I were you.”

The man looked at Jackson and then gave Hannah a thorough once over. “But I gotta say this one is a definite step up.”

Jackson bolted forward, pushing the man against the building, his forearm pinning him until Jackson felt him struggling under him to form words. His eye went to the small alleyway between the buildings. For a second he wished he was that adolescent that acted first and thought later.

He leaned down, letting his anger show, letting the carefully controlled emotions surface. “You stay the hell away from my family. You don’t look at my wife. You don’t talk to her. You don’t talk about her.”