The Baby Inheritance

Two

Instantly, Reed went on red alert.

The cold, dispassionate demeanor that had made him a legend in court dropped over him like a familiar jacket. The woman looking at him as if he were a worm, just slithering out from under a rock, was beautiful but clearly delusional.

Over the years, there had been a few predatory women who’d tried to convince him they were pregnant with his child. But, since he was always careful, he’d been able to get rid of them easily enough. And this woman, he’d never been with. That he was sure of, since a man didn’t forget a woman like this one.

“I don’t have a baby.” The very idea was ludicrous. Given his background, his family, his career, if there was one lesson he’d learned it was don’t build a family of his own. Since he was sixteen, he’d never been without a condom. “If that’s all,” he continued briskly, “you can show yourself out.”

“Nice,” she commented with a slow shake of her head.

The tone of her voice caught his attention. It was just as coolly dismissive as his own. His gaze caught hers and he couldn’t mistake the anger and disdain shining in those clear blue eyes. “Problem?”

“No more than I expected from a man like you,” she countered and bounced a little, as if to entertain the baby babbling on her hip.

“A man like me,” he repeated, curious now. “And you know me, how?”

“I know that you were Spring’s brother and that you weren’t there to help her when she needed it.” Her words rushed out as if flowing on a tide of fury. “I know that when you see a child who looks just like your sister you don’t even ask a question.”

His eyes narrowed. “My sister.”

She huffed out a breath. “That’s what I said.” Briefly, she looked at the baby and her mouth curved slightly. “Her name is Rose and she’s Spring’s daughter.” At the mention of her name, the tiny girl bounced in place and slapped her hands against the woman’s shoulder. “That’s right, Rosie. You’re your mommy’s girl, aren’t you?”

As if in answer, the baby clapped tiny hands and chortled in some weird baby version of a giggle. And while the two of them smiled at each other, Reed shifted his gaze from the lovely woman to the baby in her arms. Spring’s daughter. Now that he knew, now that he wasn’t on automatic defense, he could see his sister’s features, miniaturized on her child. Fine, black hair curling about a rounded face. Eyes so green they shone like emeralds—the same shade as Spring’s.

As his own, come to that.

Instantly, without even being told, he knew his sister was gone. Spring had looked all her life for real love. There wasn’t a chance in hell she ever would have left her daughter if she’d had a choice.

And the baby was clearly a Hudson. Then there was the fact that even in so small a child, he saw the stubborn chin his sister had boasted. Spring had a daughter he’d known nothing about. He understood the woman’s anger now. Her accusation of not being there for Spring when she needed him most. But he would have been, he assured himself silently. If she’d come to him, he’d have—how was it possible that she hadn’t come to him? Everyone in his family came to him for help. Why hadn’t Spring?

Then he remembered the last time he saw his younger sister. More than two years ago, Spring had come to him, wanting him to arrange for an advance on her trust. She’d been in love. Again.

Frowning, he remembered his reaction, too. Spring was one of those people who went through life wearing rose-colored glasses. She saw only the best in people—even those who had no best at all. Spring refused to recognize that some people simply weren’t worth her loyalty or her affection.

It had been the third time she’d been in love—and that last time was just like the others before had been. Without fail, Spring seemed to migrate toward men with few morals, little ambition and less money. He’d always thought it was because Spring thought she could “save” them. And that never worked.

Always on the lookout for love, she would invariably end up in Reed’s office asking for money to pay off the latest loser so she could move on with her life. But that last time, Reed had been forewarned by yet another sister. Savannah had met Spring’s lover and she’d been worried enough that she’d called Reed. He’d run a background check on Spring’s love of the moment and found a criminal background—fraud, identity theft and forgery. But Spring hadn’t wanted to hear the warnings. She had insisted that Coleman Bates had changed. That he deserved a second chance.

Reed recalled clearly telling her that the man had had a second chance—even a third—and hadn’t changed. But Spring was in love and wouldn’t listen. Standing there now, though, in front of the child she’d left behind, Reed frowned, remembering he’d told Spring to grow the hell up and stop expecting him to sweep in and take care of whatever mess she created. Hurt, angry, Spring had walked out of his office. So later, when she’d really needed him, his sister hadn’t called on Reed. And now it was too late for him to make it up to her.

A swift stab of guilt pierced the edges of Reed’s heart but he fought it back. Regret was indulgence. It wouldn’t help Spring, couldn’t ease the pain of her loss. He’d done what he thought was best for his sister at the time. For the family. And if she had come to him for help in extricating herself from the relationship, he assured himself, he would have done all he could for her. Now all he could do was find answers.

“What happened to Spring?”

“She died two months ago.”

He gritted his teeth as the harsh truth shook him to his bones. He’d known it, felt it, but somehow hearing it made it harder. A quick, sharp slash of pain tore at him and was immediately buried beneath a fresh wave of regret, sorrow. Reed scrubbed one hand across his face then focused on the baby again before shifting to meet Lilah Strong’s clear blue eyes. “That’s hard to hear.”

Spring was his half sister on his father’s side and five years younger than Reed. She’d always been so bright, so happy, so damn trusting. And now she was gone.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it so abruptly.”

Shaking his head, he stared into those eyes of hers. So blue, they were nearly violet. They shone with sympathy he didn’t want and didn’t need. His pain was private. Not something he would share with anyone, let alone a stranger.

To cover the turmoil raging within, he said simply, “There is no way to soften news like that.”

“You’re right. Of course, you’re right.” Those eyes shifted, changed with her emotions, and now he read grief of her own mingling with a simmering anger in their depths.

He was no more interested in that than he was in her sympathy.

“What happened to my sister?”

“There was a car accident,” she said simply. “Someone ran a red light...”

His eyes narrowed. “Drunk driver?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head and patting the baby’s back all at once. “An elderly man had a heart attack. He was killed in the accident, as well.”

So there was no one to hold responsible. No one to be furious with. To blame. Reed was left with an impotent feeling that he didn’t care for.

“You said this happened two months ago,” he said quietly, thoughtfully. “Why are you only coming to me now?”

“Because I didn’t know about you,” she said, then looked around the office. “Look, the baby needs a change. Do you mind if we take this conversation over to the couch?”

“What?”

She was already headed for his black leather sofa. Before he could say anything, she’d set the infant down and reached into what had to be a diaper bag slung over her shoulder for supplies.

Struck dumb by the action, he only watched as she expertly changed the baby’s diaper, then handed the folded-up used one to him. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Reluctantly, it seemed, her mouth curved and damned if he didn’t like the look of it.

“Um,” she said wryly, “I’d go for throwing it away.”

Stupid. Of course. He glanced at his small office trash can, then shook his head, crossed to the door and opened it. Signaling to his assistant, he held out the diaper and ordered, “Dispose of this.”

“Yes, sir.” Karen accepted the diaper as she would have an explosive device, then turned away.

Once the door was closed again, Reed looked at the baby, now standing alongside the glossy black coffee table, smacking both hands on the surface and laughing to herself. Shaking his head, he thought of Spring and felt another quick twinge of pain. Still watching the baby, he asked Lilah, “What did you mean you didn’t know about me until now?”

She tossed that thick mass of wavy red-gold hair behind her shoulder and looked up at him as she repacked the baby’s supplies. “I mean, that until last week, I didn’t know Spring had a family. She never talked about you. About any relatives at all. I thought she was alone.”

That stung more than he would have thought possible. His sister had wiped him from her life? So much so that her best friend didn’t even know of his existence? He scrubbed one hand across his face and regretted that last conversation with his sister. Maybe he could have been kinder. More understanding. But he’d assumed, as he supposed everyone did, that there would be more time. That he would, once again, be called on to dig Spring out of trouble, and so he’d been impatient and now she was gone and the chance to make things right had vanished with her.

“She left two letters,” Lilah said and held out an envelope toward him. “I read mine. This one is yours.”

Reed took it, checked that it was still sealed, then noted Spring’s familiar scrawl across the front. He glanced at the baby, still entertaining herself, then he opened the envelope and pulled out the single sheet of paper.

Reed. If you’re reading this, I’m dead. God, that’s a weird thought. But if Lilah brought you this letter, she’s also brought you my daughter. I’m asking you to take care of her. Love her. Raise her. Yes, I know I could ask Mom or one of my sisters, but honestly, you’re the only one in our family I can really count on.

Well, that hit him hard, considering that in their last conversation he hadn’t given her the help she’d wanted. Gritting his teeth, he went back to the letter.

Rosie needs you, Reed. I’m trusting you to do the right thing because you always do. Lilah Strong has been my friend and my family for almost two years, so play nice. She’s also been Rosie’s “other mother,” so she can answer any questions you have and she can be a big help to you.

As usual, you were right about Coleman. He left as soon as I got pregnant. But before he left, I got him to sign away his rights to Rosie. She doesn’t need him in her life.

I love you, Reed, and I know Rosie will, too. So thanks in advance—or from the grave. Whichever. Spring.

He didn’t know whether to smile or howl. The letter was so like Spring—making light of a situation that most people wouldn’t think about. In seconds, vignettes of Spring’s life raced through Reed’s mind. He saw her as a baby, a child who followed him around whenever they were together, a teenager who loved nothing more than shocking her parents and finally, a woman who never found the kind of love she’d always searched for.

He folded the paper slowly, then tucked it away again before he let himself look at Spring’s child. The baby was clearly well cared for, loved...happy.

Now it was up to him to see that she stayed that way. At that thought everything in Reed went cold and still. He knew what his duty was. Knew what Spring would expect of him. But damned if he knew a thing about babies.

“I see panic in your eyes.”

Instantly, Reed’s normal demeanor dropped over him. He sent Lilah a cool stare. “I don’t panic.”

“Really?” she said, clearly not believing him. “Because your expression tells me you’re wishing Rosie and I were anywhere but here.”

He didn’t appreciate being read so easily. Reed had been told by colleagues and judges alike that his poker face was the best in the business. Knowing one small baby and one very beautiful woman had shattered his record was a little humbling. But no need to let her know that.

“You’re wrong. What I’m wondering is what I’m going to do next.” And that didn’t come easy to him, either. Reed always had a plan. And a backup plan. And a plan to use if the backup failed. But at the moment, he was at a loss.

“What you’re going to do?” The woman stood up, smiled down at the baby then turned a stony stare on him. “You’re going to take care of Rosie.”

“Obviously,” he countered. The question was, how? Irritated, he pushed one hand through his hair and muttered, “I’m not exactly prepared for a baby.”

“No one ever is,” Lilah told him. “Not even people who like to plan their lives down to the last minute. Babies throw every plan out the nearest window.”

“Wonderful.”

Rosie squealed until the sound hit a pitch Reed was afraid might make his ears bleed. “That can’t be normal.”

Lilah laughed. “She’s a happy baby.”

Tipping her head to one side, Lilah watched him. “After I found out about Spring’s family, I did some research. I know you have a lot of siblings, so you must be used to babies.”

Another irritation, that he’d been looked into, though he knew potential clients did it all the time. “Yeah, a lot of siblings that I usually saw once or twice a year.”

“Not a close family,” she mused.

“You could say that,” Reed agreed. Hard to be close, though, when there were so damn many of them. You practically needed a spreadsheet just to keep track of his relatives.

“My family’s not at issue right now,” he said, shifting his gaze away from blue eyes trying to see too much to the baby looking up at him with Spring’s eyes. “Right now, I’ve got a problem to solve.”

Lilah sighed. “She’s not a problem, she’s a baby.”

Reed flicked Lilah a glance. “She’s also my problem. Now.”

He would take care of her, raise her, just as his sister had wanted. But first, he had to get things lined up. He’d made his fortune, survived his wildly eclectic family, by having a plan and sticking to it. The plan now entailed arranging for help in taking care of Spring’s daughter.

He worked long hours and would need someone on site to handle the child’s day-to-day needs. It would take a little time to arrange for the best possible nanny. So the problem became what to do with the baby until he could find the right person.

His gaze settled on Lilah Strong. And he considered the situation. She already knew and cared about the baby. Yes, she still looked as though she’d like to slap him, but that didn’t really matter, did it? What was important was getting the baby settled in. He had a feeling he could convince this woman to help him with that. If he offered her enough money to compensate her for her time.

He knew better than most just how loudly money could talk to those who didn’t have any. “I have a proposition for you.”

Surprise, then suspicion, flashed in her blue eyes just before they narrowed on him. “What sort of proposition?”

“The sort that involves a lot of money,” he said shortly, then turned and walked to his desk. Reaching into the bottom drawer, he pulled out a leather-bound checkbook and laid it, open and ready, on top of his desk. “I want to hire you to stay for a while. Take care of the baby—”

“Her name is Rosie...”

“Right. Take care of Rosie then, until I can arrange for a full-time nanny.” He picked up a pen, clicked it into life then gave her a long, cool look. “I’ll pay whatever you want.”

Her mouth dropped open and she laughed shortly, shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe what was happening. Fine. If she was unable to come up with a demand, he’d make an offer and they could negotiate from there. “Fifty thousand dollars,” he said easily.

“Fifty?” Her eyes were wide. Astonished.

“Not enough? All right, a hundred thousand.” Normally, he might have bid lower, but this was an emergency and he couldn’t afford to have her say no.

“Are you crazy?”

“Not at all,” he said with a shrug to emphasize that the money meant nothing to him. “I pay for what I need when I need it. And, as I believe it will take me at least a week or two to find and hire an appropriate nanny, I’m willing to buy interim help.”

“I’m not for sale.”

He smiled now. How many times had he heard that statement just before settling on the right amount? Everyone had a price—the only challenge came in finding the magic number. “I’m not trying to buy you,” Reed assured her, “just rent you for a week or two.”

“You have enough arrogance for two or three people,” she said.

He straightened up, shot her a level look. “It’s not arrogance. It’s doing what needs to be done. I can do that with your help—which allows you to continue to be a part of the child’s—”

“Rosie’s—”

“—life,” he finished with a nod at her correction. “You can stay, make sure the person I hire is right for the job. Or, you can leave and go home now.”

Of course, he didn’t believe for a moment that she would leave the baby until she was absolutely sure of the child’s well-being. That was written all over her face. Her body language practically screamed defensive mode. And he would use her desire to protect the baby for his own purposes. Reed Hudson always got what he wanted. Right now, that included Lilah Strong.

He could see her thinking and it wasn’t difficult to discern her thoughts from the expressions flitting across her features. She was still furious with him for whatever reasons, but she wasn’t ready to walk away from the baby yet. She would need to see for herself that Rosie was settled into her new home.

So, whether she realized it or not, Lilah Strong would do exactly what Reed wanted.

“I’ll stay,” she said finally, still watching the baby stagger around the coffee table like a happy drunk. “Until you’ve found the right nanny.”

Then she turned and looked at Reed. “But I won’t be paid. I won’t be rented. I’ll do it for Rosie. Not you.”

He hid a smile. “Good. Now, I’ve a few more appointments this afternoon, so why don’t you and the—” he caught himself and said instead “—Rosie head over to my place. I’ll be there at about six.”

“Fine,” she said. “Where do you live?”

“My assistant, Karen, will give you all of the particulars.” He checked the platinum watch on his wrist. “For now...”

“Fine. You’re busy. I get it.” She slung the diaper bag over her shoulder, then reached down to scoop up the baby. Once Rosie was settled on her hip, she looked up at him. “I’ll see you later then. We can talk about all of this.”

“All right.” He kept the satisfaction he felt out of his voice. She walked past him and her scent seemed to reach out for him. Lemons, he thought. Lemons and sage. It was every bit as tantalizing as the woman herself.

He watched her go, his gaze sliding from the lush fall of that golden red hair down to the curve of a first-class behind. His body stirred as her scent seemed to sink deep inside him, making him want things that would only complicate an already messy situation.

Knowing that, though, didn’t ease the hunger.

* * *

“You live in a hotel?” Lilah demanded the moment Reed walked through the door later that afternoon.

For hours, she’d wandered the expansive suite, astonished at the luxury, the oddity, of anyone actually living in a hotel. Okay, her own mother and stepfather lived on board a cruise ship, traveling constantly from country to country. They enjoyed being somewhere different every day, though it would have driven Lilah crazy.

But living in a hotel? When there were a zillion houses to choose from? Who did that? Well, all right, she’d heard of movie stars doing it, but Reed Hudson was a lawyer, for heaven’s sake. Granted, a very successful, obviously very rich lawyer, but still. Didn’t the man want a home? A hotel was so...impersonal.

Though she’d noticed a lot of framed photos of what had to be members of his family scattered throughout the two-bedroom, two-bath suite. So, she told herself, he wasn’t as separate from the Hudson clan as he pretended. That made her feel both better and worse.

Better because Rosie would have more family than just this one seemingly cold and distant man. But worse because if he did care about his family, why hadn’t he been there for Spring when she’d needed him?

He shut the door behind him, then simply stood there, staring at her. Those green eyes of his seemed to spear right through her and Lilah could only imagine how good he must be in court. Any opposing witness would quail beneath that steady, cool stare.

“You have a problem with the hotel suite?” He tucked both hands into the pockets of his slacks.

“It’s lovely and you know it.” And, unlike his office, the space was decorated in more than black, chrome and gray.

The living room was wide and dotted with twin lemon-yellow chairs opposite a sky blue sofa, all of them overstuffed and just begging someone to drop in and relax for a while. The tables were a honey-colored wood and the rugs on the tile floor were splashes of jewel tones. There was an oak dining set at the edge of a small, stocked wet bar, and a grouping of cream-colored lounge chairs on the terrace ran the length of the suite. Each of the two bedrooms was done in shades of cream and green and the bathrooms were luxurious, spa-like spaces with stand-alone tubs big enough to hold a party in and showers studded with full-body sprays.

From the terrace, there was a spectacular view of the ocean in the distance, with the meticulously cared-for golf course and a sea of red-tiled roofs in the surrounding neighborhood closer up. The hotel itself looked like a castle plunked down in the middle of a beach city and felt light-years away from her own home, a cabin in the mountains.

Though it was much smaller than this hotel suite, her cabin afforded beautiful views, too, of a lake and the mountains and a meadow that in spring was dotted with wildflowers and the deer that came to graze through it. She was out of her element here and that made her feel slightly off balance. Which, Lilah told herself, was not a good thing when dealing with a man like Reed Hudson.

“Where’s the baby?” he asked, his gaze shifting around the room before settling on her again.

“Rosie—” she emphasized the baby girl’s name “—is asleep in the crib the hotel provided.” Honestly, how was he going to be a parent to the little girl if he couldn’t even seem to say her name?

“Good.” He slipped out of his jacket, tossed it across the back of a chair and walked toward the wet bar near the gas fireplace. As he reached for a bottle of scotch, he loosened the precise knot of his tie and opened the collar of his shirt. Why that minor action should strike Lilah as completely sexy, she couldn’t have said.

“I called ahead,” Reed was saying. “Told Andre you were coming and to see that you had everything you needed.”

“Andre.” Lilah thought back to the moment she’d entered the hotel to be greeted by an actual butler. If it hadn’t been for the man’s friendly smile and eagerness to help, she might have been completely intimidated by the snooty accent and his quiet efficiency. “He was wonderful. Couldn’t do enough to help us and Rosie loved him. But I can’t believe this suite comes with a butler.”

One corner of his mouth quirked as he poured himself a scotch. “Andre’s more than a butler. Sometimes I think he’s a miracle worker.”

“I’m convinced,” she admitted. “He arranged for the crib and had a wide selection of baby food stocked in your pantry. He even provided a bright blue teddy bear that Rosie already loves.”

Reed smiled and even from across the room Lilah felt the punch of it. If anything, her sense of balance dissolved just a bit more.

“You want a drink?”

She thought about refusing, simply because she wasn’t ready to relax around him yet. But after the day she’d had... “Wine, if you have it. White.”

He nodded, got the wine from the refrigerator and poured her a glass. Carrying both drinks to the sofa, he sat down and handed the wine to her when she joined him, taking a seat on the opposite corner.

Lilah took a sip, let the wine settle her a bit. Being this close to Reed Hudson was a little unnerving. The anger she’d been living with for the past few weeks still simmered deep inside her, but looking at him now, she had to admit it wasn’t only anger she was feeling. She had another slow sip of wine and reminded herself just why she was there.

“Why are you so willing to raise Rosie?” she asked, her voice shattering the silence.

He studied the golden scotch in the heavy glass tumbler for a long moment before taking a swallow. “Because Spring asked me to.”

“Just like that.”

He looked at her, his green eyes as clear and sharp as emeralds under a spotlight. “Just like that. The baby—Rosie—” he corrected before she could “—is a Hudson. She’s family and I look out for my family.”

“Enough to change your whole life?”

A wry smile curved his mouth briefly. “Life’s always changing,” he mused. “With a family like mine, nothing ever stays the same.”

“Okay, but...” Waving one hand to encompass the elegant surroundings, Lilah said, “You’re not exactly living in a baby-friendly environment.”

“I know.” His gaze slipped around the open room, then he nodded at her. “That’s one of the reasons you’re here. You’ve got more experience with babies than I do. So you’ll know how to baby-proof this place temporarily.”

“Temporarily?” she asked.

“Obviously, I’ll need a house,” he said, taking another drink of his scotch. “Until now, the hotel’s worked well for me. Butler service, daily maids and twenty-four-hour room service.”

“It does sound good,” she admitted, but didn’t think she’d be able to live in such a cutoff, sterile environment for long.

“But a baby changes things,” he added, with a slight frown into his glass.

“Yeah, they really do.”

Abruptly, he pushed to his feet and reached out for her hand.

“What?” she asked.

One eyebrow winged up. “Don’t be so suspicious. Just come with me for a minute.”

She placed her hand in his and completely ignored the buzz of something electric that zapped through her. If he felt it, too, he was much better at not showing it than she was. Not a flicker of response shone in his eyes as he pulled her to her feet.

He tugged her behind him as he walked around the sofa, across the room and out onto the terrace, stepping into the encroaching shadows. Then he let her go and walked up to the stone railing, looking out over the view as lights began to wink into existence in the homes below, and a handful of stars began to glitter in the sky.

Lilah followed his gaze briefly, then half turned to watch him instead. His sharp green eyes were narrowed against the cold wind that ruffled his thick, wavy black hair. Somehow he seemed more...approachable. Which should probably worry her.

“I can’t stay here,” he said, his voice soft enough that she leaned in closer so she wouldn’t miss a word. “Rosie will need a yard. And a terrace that doesn’t include a couple-hundred-foot drop to the street.”

Lilah shivered and looked over the edge of the railing. She’d had the same hideous thought herself. A tiny Rosie crawling out to the terrace and somehow climbing up on furniture and pitching right over. Deliberately, she pushed that mental image away and told herself it was good that Reed had come to the decision to move on his own—without her having to mention it.

“So just like that, you’ll buy a house.”

“Just like that,” he assured her, turning to lean one hip against the stone balustrade. “I’ll find something this weekend.”

She laughed. How could she not? Lilah’s friends worked and saved for months, sometimes years to sock away enough money to maybe look for a house. Reed Hudson would simply pull out his magic checkbook. “Is everything so easy then?”

“Not easy,” he assured her, his green eyes meeting and holding hers. “But if there’s one thing I know—it’s that if you want something, you go get it.”