Baby for the Tycoon

She hadn’t slept well since… well, since taking Peyton, and her exhaustion was creeping up on her. Frankly, it had been all she could do to drag herself out of bed this morning. The middle-of-the-night feedings were just not her thing. She was sitting on the sofa, blearily rocking back and forth, wondering if she could get Babies “R” Us to deliver a rocking chair by the end of the day, when the doorbell rang.

It was a bad sign that it took her so long to identify the noise.

She set the bottle down on the side table, stumbled to her feet and pried the door open, praying that no one on the other side would expect coherent conversation.

She frowned at the sight of Kitty and Claire. She’d only known Claire for seven months, but the concern lining the other woman’s face was obvious in the crinkle between her brows. As if to distract from her frown, she thrust forward a pink bakery box with the Cutie Pies logo stamped on the top.

“We brought food!” Claire announced, her tone overly chipper. “We just flew in from Palo Verde this morning. I made this batch just before I left.”

Claire owned a diner in the small town of Palo Verde, a couple of hours away. Jonathon, Ford and Matt had grown up in Palo Verde. If Claire had baked whatever was in the box, she couldn’t wait to dive in. And if fate was kind at all, the box would be filled with the spicy, dark chocolate doughnuts that the diner was known for.

Kitty gave Wendy a once-over, then announced, “Since you’re obviously too tired to invite us in, why not just step aside.” She held out her hands. “Here, hand me the baby. You take the doughnuts. Please, eat some before I fight you for them.”

Mutely, Wendy handed the fussy Peyton over to Kitty.

Kitty Langley was the kind of woman who looked as if she didn’t have a maternal bone in her body. The jewelry-store-heiress-turned-jewelry-designer had lived in New York until falling in love with and marrying Ford the previous year. How that woman could look glamorous while cradling a baby in her arms, Wendy didn’t know. But she did envy the skill, since she was pretty sure she herself looked as if she was recovering from the flu.

Wendy happily traded baby for doughnuts.

Though her arms ached from the hours of holding Peyton, the bone-deep weariness melted a bit as she sank her teeth into the dense buttermilk doughnut.

“I’m not sure why you came,” she muttered past a mouthful of heaven. “But, frankly, I no longer care. You can hold me at gunpoint. Rob me. Even take the baby. Just leave the doughnuts and I’ll be happy.”

Kitty stifled a smile as she pressed her bright red lips to the crown of Peyton’s head. “You’re in that too-exhausted-to-be-tired stage, aren’t you?”

After a few minutes of being held by Kitty, Peyton stopped fussing long enough to put her head down on Kitty’s shoulder. And then there was silence. Peyton’s eyes drifted closed and she exhaled a slow, shaky breath. Then her back settled into the gentle rhythm of sleep.

Tension seeped out of every pore in Wendy’s body.

“Oh, thank goodness,” she muttered.

Claire smiled wryly. “Did you get any sleep at all last night?”

“A couple of hours here and there,” she admitted. “This caring for a baby gig is way harder than I expected.”

“Oh, honey, you said a mouthful there.” Kitty gave a low whistle, no doubt remembering her own new-to-mothering days. Walking with an exaggerated sway, Kitty crossed to the bassinet, so she could lay the baby down. “And at least I had seven months to get used to the idea.”

The room fell silent as Kitty eased the sleeping Peyton down. Claire trotted off to the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with a steaming cup of coffee. “With cream and sugar,” she said as she handed it over. “I assume all sane people take it that way.”

Wendy took a grateful sip as Kitty asked, “Can we get you anything else? Something to eat maybe? I can’t cook worth a damn, but Claire could McGyver a feast out of the barest cupboard.”

Wendy didn’t doubt it. “I think I’ll save room for another doughnut.”

“You sure?” Claire asked, in hushed tones so as not to wake the baby. “I could whip up an omelet. Or something else? I saw some nice Gouda in the fridge when I was foraging for cream.” With a smile she added, “I could make you a grilled cheese sandwich so good you’ll cry.”

“No, thank you.”

“You should try the grilled cheese,” Kitty urged. “It’s amazing.”

“No, really. I’m okay.” Wendy looked from Kitty to Claire, suddenly suspicious. “Why do I get the feeling I’m being plied with food for nefarious reasons?”

Kitty and Claire exchanged a look.

Wendy raised an eyebrow. “Come on, spill. What’s up?”

Claire’s cheeks reddened with what Wendy could only assume was guilt. Kitty played her cards closer to her chest. Her expression revealed nothing.

“Okay, obviously you have some bad news for me. Either that or you’re going to try to get me to join a cult. Which is it?”

Claire bit down on her lip, her chin jutting out at a rebellious angle.

Kitty gave a little eye roll and sighed with obvious exasperation. “Fine,” Kitty said, managing to flounce a bit while sitting almost perfectly still. “We’re worried about Jonathon.”

Wendy gave a little grunt of surprise and sat back against the sofa. “Worried? About Jonathon?”

“Whatever is going on between you and Jonathon,” Claire began, “obviously has something to do with Peyton.”

Wendy opened her mouth to protest, but Kitty didn’t give her a chance.

“Jonathon wouldn’t talk about it, so I assume you won’t either. That’s fine. But we’re not idiots. Don’t forget, you told Ford why you were resigning just twenty-four hours before you and Jonathon announced you were getting married. If I had to guess, I’d say you’re pretending to be some happily married couple so your family will let you keep Peyton.”

Well, so much for hiding the truth from their friends.

“As convoluted and bizarre as that seems,” Kitty continued. “We’re not going to try to stop you.”

“We’ll even play along,” Claire added in. “Anything you need from us, you’ve got.”

“But when you’re off playing house together, just be very careful.”

For a long moment, Wendy had no idea what to say. She turned away from their careful scrutiny and walked over to the bassinet where Peyton lay sleeping.

She thought about the conversation she’d had with Jonathon before they’d signed the prenup. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who thought she was in danger of falling in love with him. And here she’d thought she’d hid her attraction to him so well over the years. Was she really so transparent?

Glancing back at Kitty and Claire, she forced a perky smile. “Look, I admit Jonathon is a great guy. I’ve always thought so. But I know his dating history probably better than either one of you. I know he doesn’t open up easily. I’m not going to make the mistake of falling in love with him.”

Claire and Kitty exchanged nervous glances, seeming to have an entire conversation with just their eyebrows.

“What?” Wendy demanded after a second, crossing back to the sofa to get a better view of their unspoken exchange.

Claire kept her mouth shut.

But it was Kitty who admitted, “Actually, it’s him we’re worried about.”

Wendy sank back to the sofa. “You’re worried about Jonathon? Falling in love with me?”

Claire nodded.

“Not me falling in love with him, but him. Falling in love.

With me.”

Kitty gave an elegant wave of her hand. “Obviously we don’t want to see you left brokenhearted either. But you’re a smart woman. Very practical. We just assumed you can look out for yourself.”

“But you’re worried that Jonathon, the brilliant, analytical CFO is going to get his feelings hurt?” Wendy fought back a giggle.

“Well,” Claire hedged. “Yes.”

Wendy looked from one woman to the other, her amusement fading. “You’re serious?” They nodded.

“I know that Jonathon seems…” Claire trailed off, searching for the right word.

“Detached,” Kitty provided. “Ruthless.” Claire glared her into silence. “You’re not helping.” “Like a heartless bastard,” Wendy offered quietly. “Yes!” Kitty agreed.

“But he really isn’t,” Claire said quickly. “Don’t forget, I’ve known him longer than you have.”

Which was technically true. Claire had grown up in the same small town as Matt, Ford and Jonathon. “But you’re younger than he is. You didn’t even go to school together.”

“We overlapped some,” Claire argued. “And I’ve seen him in love. Senior year, he was…” she trailed off, apparently struggling to convey the full force of his emotion. “He was just head over heels in love. Crazy in love with this girl. He would have done anything for her.”

“Who was she?” Wendy found herself asking.

Claire hesitated. “Just a girl at school. Kristi hadn’t grown up in Palo Verde. Her parents were divorced and she moved there to live with her dad her sophomore year.”

“And they dated?”

“A little.” Then Claire shrugged. “I think mostly he just chased her. She flirted a lot. He was completely determined to win her over. Any grand gesture you can imagine an eighteen-year-old guy making, he made it. Flowers, jewelry. The whole nine yards.”

Flowers and jewelry? She knew he didn’t have a lot of money growing up. He’d once told her he’d started saving money for college when he was twelve. She couldn’t even imagine the man she knew taking money out of his precious college fund to buy gifts. For a girlfriend.

“Once,” Claire said, leaning forward and warming up to the story, “she told him that her mother always bought her birthday cake from the same bakery. She’d grown up in San Francisco. So for her birthday, the guys made a road trip out to San Francisco to buy her a cake. On a school day. They got in so much trouble.” Claire chuckled for a second. Then seemed to realize how much she’d revealed about herself. Her blush returned as she sank back against the sofa.

“You were a little bit of a stalker, weren’t you?” Kitty asked, grinning.

“I had a crush on Matt. That’s all.” Then she smiled smugly. “Besides, he eventually came around.”

“I’ll say.” Kitty bumped her shoulder against Claire’s in easy camaraderie.

“So what happened?” Wendy asked, unwilling to leave the thread of Jonathon’s story dangling. “Why did they break up?”

“That’s the thing.” Claire gave a little shrug. “I’m not sure they were ever really together. And not long after the birthday cake thing, she moved back in with her mother. Jonathon was…”

“Heartbroken,” Kitty supplied.

“No.” Claire frowned thoughtfully. “He was just never the same.” She gave her head a little shake, as if she was returning to the present. “But I know it’s still there, buried inside of him. The capacity to love like that.”

Claire and Kitty exchanged another one of those pointed glances and Wendy felt a stab of envy. This girl he’d loved, Kristi… Wendy had never been loved like that. Kitty and Claire, that’s what they had with their husbands. But no one had ever felt that way about Wendy.

She pushed herself to her feet. “I don’t think you have to worry. He doesn’t love me. I’m sure of it.” She forced a bright smile. “You can go home and rest assured that I’m not going to crush his delicate heart beneath my boot heel.”

“It’s not just you we’re worried about.” Kitty stood also and looked across the room to the bassinet. “What about Peyton?”

“What about Peyton?”

“Have you ever seen Jonathon with Ilsa?” Kitty asked.

“I—” Then she broke off. Remembering that she had, once, seen him holding Ilsa. Right after she’d been born, Wendy had brought flowers by and Jonathon had been there, an expression of pure wonder on his face as he held the baby.

She nodded, rubbing at her temple, trying to dispel the tension headache that was spiking through her head. When had this all gotten so complicated?

“He’s fantastic with kids,” Kitty was saying. “He adores Ilsa. He’s been bugging us to have another one in fact.”

“And if you are getting married just to fool your family,” Claire said. “And he falls in love with you or that darling little girl, how do you think he’s going to feel when you end the marriage?”

“I—” What could she say to that? She’d never imagined Jonathon might fall in love with her. The idea was preposterous. But Peyton? Yeah. She could imagine that. And if they really were married for two years—it might take that long—then he’d have plenty of time for Peyton to wrap him around her tiny finger. She looked up at Kitty and Claire and found them watching her expectantly. “All I can say, is that when… if we get divorced, I wouldn’t dream of keeping him away from Peyton. If he wants to see her, that is. From this moment on, I’ll think of him as her father. Just as I think of myself as her mother.”

Jonathon as a father. The idea was… so foreign. So odd. Yet, she knew in her heart that Kitty and Claire were right to warn her. He was doing this amazing thing for her. She didn’t want him to get hurt because of it and she would do everything in her power to make sure he didn’t. She only wished she was half as confident in her ability to protect herself.

After a long moment, Kitty stood and gave a dramatic sigh. “Very well, then. I suppose there’s only one thing left to do.”

“What’s that?” Wendy asked, hesitantly. Kitty’s face broke into a smile. “Welcome you to the family.”

Six

The wedding itself went off with all the precision of a well-planned military maneuver. And it was just about as romantic. A small ceremony performed in a drab municipal office in downtown Palo Alto, it was over so quickly that Jonathon felt sure Claire and Matt wished they had stayed in Curaçao instead of making the trip back.

After that first kiss in her office had gotten so out of control, he didn’t even dare cement the ceremony with more than a quick peck. So much for convincing their friends that they were in love. But no one in the office that day seemed surprised, least of all Wendy.

That evening, they swung by Wendy’s apartment to pick up her suitcase and Peyton’s few possessions before heading over to his house. They’d decided to keep her apartment for now. Her lease wasn’t up for another few months, which would give her plenty of time to decide when she wanted to move into his house and what she wanted to keep in storage. When they arrived at his house, they discovered that Claire had made them dinner, and they found it waiting for them in the warming drawer of his kitchen.

He stood beside Wendy in the doorway to the kitchen, staring at the table with a fist clenching his heart. The table had been set with two of the elegant place settings his interior designer had bought seven years ago and which he’d never used. Long, thin tapers sat in the center of the table, a book of matches propped against the candle holder. In between the two chairs sat the new Svan high chair he’d had delivered. A bottle of unopened champagne sat chilling in a bucket opposite the high chair.

Wendy cleared her throat. “Um…” She hitched Peyton up on her hip. “I think I’ll just… urn… unpack a few of the bags first.” Her gaze looked from the wine to him. “I’m not really hungry yet.”

Before he could muster a response, she took the final suitcase from him and made a dash for the door. Probably a wise decision. Neither of them was ready yet for a intimate dinner. Let alone wine.

Three hours later, she still hadn’t made it back down to eat. He’d sat at the table himself, eating in front of his laptop. Finally, he shut his laptop and went in search of Wendy. He found her upstairs in the room he’d set aside as a nursery.

He paused just outside the door. Leaning his shoulder against the doorjamb, for a long moment he simply watched her. The room had been painted pale pink. Butterflies fluttered across the walls and bunnies frolicked in the grass painted along the trim. A white crib sat in the corner under a mobile of more butterflies and flowers. Overall, the décor of the room was a little cloying in its sweetness, but the decorator had assured him that it was perfect for the new addition to his life. This evening, he barely noticed the butterflies, but rather focused his attention on the woman sitting in the rocking chair in the corner and the baby she held in her arms.

At some point, Wendy had changed out of the dress and into a pair of jeans and a white V-neck T-shirt. Peyton was asleep in her arms. Her eyes were closed, her head tilted back against the headrest of the rocking chair. Only the faint tensing of her calf as she occasionally nudged the chair into movement indicated that she wasn’t asleep too.

He cleared his throat to let her know he was there.

Her head bobbed up. “Oh,” she said, wiggling in the chair to reposition Peyton in her arms without waking her. “How long have you been there?”

“I just walked up.”

She glanced down at the baby in her arms as Peyton stirred but didn’t wake. “I suppose I should put her down,” she whispered. “But I hate to do it. If she wakes up again…”

If the smudges of exhaustion under her eyes were any indication, Peyton wasn’t the easiest of babies. No wonder given the upheaval in her young life.

“If she wakes back up,” he found himself saying, “then I’ll take over and you can get some sleep. You should go eat.”

Wendy shook her head. “I can’t ask you to do that. That’s not why we got married.”

There was almost a hint of accusation in her voice.

“Maybe not,” he hedged. “But we are married now. And you obviously could use the sleep. At this point, I’m more rested than you are. A sleepless night won’t hurt me, but a good night’s sleep could do you a world of good.”

“If she needs a bottle in the night—”

“Then I’ll give it to her.”

Wendy looked skeptical. “The bottles are downstairs. You just—”

“I saw you mixing the formula. I’ve got it.”

“But—”

“Wendy, I’m one of five kids. I had a niece and two nephews before I graduated from high school. Peyton won’t be the first baby I’ve ever fed.”

“Oh.” After a moment of hesitation, she stood and crossed to the crib.

As he’d told her, he knew his way around an infant. It was so obvious to him that she did not. There was a sort of fearful hesitancy to the way she moved. As if she were afraid of breaking Peyton.

She lowered the baby into the crib then stood there for a long moment, her hand resting on Peyton before she moved back a step. She cringed as she raised the side of the bed and the hardware clattered. But Peyton slept on and Wendy slowly backed away.

She paused as she closed the door to unclip the baby monitor from her hip and turn it on, as if Peyton might start crying any second and Wendy would miss it now that she was out of sight. He couldn’t help chuckling when she raised the monitor to her ear to listen more closely.

She shot him an annoyed look. “What?”

“You know you’re only one room away. You could probably hear her cry without the monitor.” When she looked as if she might comment, he reached out and carefully extracted it from her fingers. “Not that you’re going to need this tonight any way.”

“I really don’t mind staying up with her.” “The discussion is over.”

She opened her mouth to respond, then snapped it shut, her lips twisting into a smile. “I guess I know you well enough to recognize that I’m-the-boss-and-what-I-say-goes tone.”

“I have a tone that says all that?”

She snorted her derision. “Yeah. And don’t pretend you don’t know it.” She took a step in the direction of the room at the end of the hall—the guest room she’d claimed for her own—then she paused. “You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

“Wendy, let’s not have another discussion about my motives.”

She took another step toward him, closing the distance between them and lowering her voice. “No. I’m not talking about the wedding. I’m talking about all this.” She nodded her head in the direction of Peyton’s room. “I mean the nursery. The crib. The rocking chair. It’s all—”

“It’s nothing.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Like the twenty percent nothing? Unless you were up all night hand-painting butterflies and daisies last night, I’m guessing you hired an interior decorator to come in and do this. In less than a week. That’s not nothing.”

“Kitty mentioned that all you had was a bassinet.”

She smiled a slow, teasing smile. “And you knew that wasn’t enough. Being such an expert on babies and everything.”

He was struck once again by the idea that this was their wedding night. That if there wasn’t a baby asleep in the next room, he might now be slowly lifting that sweater up over her head. He might be unhooking that hot-pink bra of hers and stripping her naked.

But of course, if there wasn’t a baby asleep in the next room, then there wouldn’t have been a wedding to begin with. Let alone a wedding night.

Suddenly she reached up and cupped his jaw in her hand. Her gaze was soft, her touch gentle. “Thanks for taking such good care of us.”

For a solid heartbeat—maybe longer—his brain seemed to completely stop working. He couldn’t remember all the reasons why touching her was such a bad idea. All he knew was how much he wanted her. Not just in bed, but here. Like this. Looking up at him as if he was a decent guy who deserved a woman like her.

Before he could give in to the temptation to let her go on thinking that, he grabbed her hand in his and gently pulled it away from his face. Backing up a step, he said, “You should go to bed. Catch up on that sleep you’ve been missing.”

He even used his I’m-the-boss tone.

“Right.” She gave a chipper little salute. “Got it, boss.”

Wendy had been so sure she wouldn’t be able to sleep. She’d been positive she’d find herself waking at every sound coming from Peyton’s room. She feared that she’d lie awake in bed thinking about the moment in the hall. But instead of the sleepless night she expected, she woke ten hours later to sun streaming in her bedroom window, feeling more rested than she had in weeks. Then she bolted upright in bed as panic clogged her heart. She’d slept through the night. Which meant she’d slept through Peyton waking and needing her God only knew how many times.

Wendy dashed down the hall and into Peyton’s room, skidding to a halt beside the crib. It was empty. Her heart doubled its already accelerated rate. Where could—

“Morning.”

She spun around to see Jonathon seated in the rocking chair, Peyton nestled on his lap as he fed her a bottle. Wendy pressed a hand to her chest, blowing out a whoosh of air, willing her heart rate to slow.

“You have her,” she muttered. “She’s fine.”

Jonathon gave her a once-over, his gaze lingering on the tank top and boxers she always slept in. Finally his eyes returned to hers. “What did you think had happened to her?”

Wendy tugged at the hem of the thin white cotton, resisting the urge to glance down to verify just how thin the tank top was. She doubted knowing would bring her comfort. Instead she crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s the first morning in… what, almost three weeks now, that she hasn’t been the one to wake me. For all I knew, she’d been abducted by aliens. I panicked.”

His lips curved in an amused smile. “Obviously.”

For a second she was entranced by the transformation of his face. He had a smooth, charming smile he used at work. She thought of it as his client-wooing smile. He also had a wolfish grin. That was his I’m-about-to-devour-some-innocent-company expression.

Neither of those reached his eyes. Neither held any warmth.

But this slight, amused twist of his lips wrinkled the corners of his eyes, and it nearly took her breath away.

Before she could respond, or do something really stupid, like melt into a puddle at his feet, he continued. “Peyton and I have been up for hours now.”

“I’m—”