The Baby Contract (The Billionaire Bachelor Series) Read online

  It’d be a cold day in hell before Liam would give them that kind of satisfaction and power. No one needed that amount of control. Liam leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hand over his jaw, the idea that Richard was up to something nagging at him.

  Chapter 6

  It was just after eight AM Wednesday when Abby pulled into the parking lot of LoneStar Healthcare. She snatched her ringing cellphone from the passenger seat, only to fumble and drop it on the floorboard by her feet. Cursing her clumsy hands, she banged her chin on the steering wheel as she retrieved it.

  She placed it to her ear, massaging her injury. “Hello.”

  “Hello, Miss Haden?” a female voice asked.

  “Yes, this is she.”

  “Miss Haden, this is Charity Belmont, Liam’s personal assistant.”

  Abby sucked in a sharp breath; she didn’t like the twinge of insecurity she felt. “Yes, Miss Belmont, I’ve been expecting your call.”

  Charity gave her the physician’s address followed by the location of the airport and flight time for Liam’s personal jet which would take them to Aspen. She also informed Abby that after the doctor’s appointment she needed to drop by Whitmore Tower and pick up the contract, though Abby would’ve preferred it be emailed to her. Whitmore Tower was a monstrosity of steel and glass, and she’d never considered stepping foot inside. She didn’t like how unwelcoming and cold it appeared, even on the hottest Texas day.

  Abby jotted down all the information and stuffed it inside her purse. After the call ended she collected her things. The September day already hot, she walked quickly to get back into air conditioning.

  “Good morning, Jared,” she greeted her boss.

  “I got an email this morning from headquarters. It seems you’ll be taking next week off.” He refused to look at her, staring instead at the company computer. “I can’t afford to let you go on such short notice, but I guess I don’t have a choice in the matter.”

  Abby flushed, surprised at how quickly Liam could work, and appalled he’d managed to make her employer furious. How would this reflect on her future with LoneStar? A sinking feeling settled in her gut. “I’m sorry,” she began. “This has all been unexpected—”

  “I don’t know what this personal business of yours is, but next time I better get more notice,” Jared interrupted. “And from you, personally.”

  Abby stared toward the floor, stung by his anger. Unable to explain the reasons to her boss, she hurried out to make her daily rounds. She needed to finish in time for her blood tests.

  The day passed quickly, but it seemed all her patients were in testy moods, straining her tolerance to the max. By the time she made it to the doctor’s office, she had a massive headache and wanted nothing more than a cool shower and a cold glass of tea.

  She checked in with the reception desk then took the offered clipboard and had a seat. She scribbled her medical and personal history on several forms. After turning in the info, she took her place in the waiting room and dug out her cellphone. She pulled up her email, before turning to an internet search for Liam.

  Photos popped up and she scrolled through them. One in particular left butterflies in her stomach. He was dressed in a tailored tuxedo and flashed the camera person a crooked smile that reached his eyes. He looked every bit the billionaire bachelor. She glanced down at her pale blue scrubs, stained by mustard from lunch, and another from coffee spilled by one of her patients. She usually carried an extra pair in her trunk for emergencies—usually but apparently not today.

  Abby closed her eyes, trying to imagine the week in Aspen with Liam. Not the sex part—if she thought too much on that, she feared she’d back out. Or black out, because backing out wasn’t an option.

  “Abigail Haden?” A nurse called.

  Abby rose and followed her to an exam room.

  * * * *

  With the exam taken care of, she drove to Whitmore Tower to pick up the baby contract. Abby rode the elevator to the top floor, eyeing her mussed hair in the reflective surfaces of the elevator box. She smoothed her hands over the stray short strands sticking out at odd angles on the crown of her head, before tightening the elastic holding her ponytail in place. She pursed her lips, the best she could do, and at least she’d only be dealing with Liam’s receptionist. Not that she needed to impress Mr. Whitmore, she reminded herself. He needed her as much as she needed him, leaving them on equal footing.

  When Abby stepped into the office, she froze and gawked. The place was incredible, sparse and contemporary in style, with a wall of solid glass and a breathtaking view beyond. The dark blue sky was dotted with little sweeps of white clouds to break up the astounding hue. From her spot, she could just catch glimpses of the tops of buildings off in the distance.

  Highly polished and spotless, everything glared back at her, as if the décor itself disapproved of her disheveled appearance. Smartly dressed employees in tailored suits gave her curious looks. One man in particular stopped, eyed her head to toe and back up again, before adjusting his red tie and moving on. Her confidence faltered. Her brief pep talk in the elevator did little to bolster her ego enough to match the opulent top floor of Whitmore Tower.

  She’d never felt so out of place in her life. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the odor of floor polish and another pleasant but unidentifiable odor. Perhaps it was the aroma of the billions of dollars that flowed through the place.

  “Can I help you?” a woman asked.

  Abby blinked and looked toward a long marble reception desk. The receptionist gave her a benign smile, but her eyes cast down Abby’s stained scrubs in a cool perusal.

  Abby swallowed up the last of the Tower’s dazzle in one huge gulp so she could reply. “I’m Abigail Haden. I’m here for paperwork from Mr. Whitmore.”

  The woman’s face brightened. “Yes, of course.” She pressed a button out of view and spoke into her headset. “Mr. Whitmore, Miss Haden is here to see you.”

  Abby’s face heated. “I-I think you misunderstood, I only needed to pick up a contract.”

  The receptionist ignored her and rose from her chair. “Follow me.”

  Abby had no choice but to obey. The receptionist’s high heels clicked on the flooring, while Abby’s tennis shoes squeaked, probably scuffing the polish, she thought in passing. The woman opened a door and waved Abby inside. Abby took a huge breath and stepped through the doorway. The door clicked closed behind her, sealing her inside with the rumored tyrant of business. Being closed in with a hungry lion would’ve left her less anxious.

  Across the room, Liam sat behind a rather utilitarian black desk. The room was much muter in its affect, with only a couple of filing cabinets outside of the desk. A door sat to her right and she wondered if he had his own bathroom. Of course he wouldn’t want to share a restroom with the help.

  Liam kept his attention on his computer, his long fingers dancing over its keys, the tap tap tap rattling in her brain. She rocked back and forth on her feet, waiting. Her gaze remained on his fingers. His hands looked strong. Capable. How capable were they? She swallowed as a tingle shot through her nerve endings, tugging her thought processes along with it. How would they feel on her skin? Were the tips of his fingers soft or calloused? Would he have a gentle touch or would his caress be urgent and rough?

  And, most importantly, how would she respond to it? Behind him, the wall of glass showed another stunning view of the Austin skyline. She chose to focus on it instead of the questions tumbling around in her head.

  “Miss Haden, I take it you made the doctor’s appointment,” his baritone voice rumbled through the room, sending unexpected goose pimples over her skin.

  Abby licked her dry lips and nodded. “Yes. I’m here for the contract.”

  “Perfect. I have a rush on the test results. They’ll be in by Friday morning. I’ll give you my own Sunday on the jet.”

  He finally lifted his gaze from the computer and turned toward her. He peered at her from beneath his shag o
f eyebrows, drawing her reluctant eyes back to his. He picked up a manila folder from the corner of his desk.

  “Feel free to have your attorney go over it with you, but it’s straight forward. Two hundred fifty thousand dollars upon conception, and another five hundred thousand after the birth of a healthy child.”

  She walked across the room and reached for the folder. He pulled it out of reach.

  “But, should the child not be carried to term, such as a miscarriage or other unfortunate incident, the two hundred fifty thousand returns to me. I have to protect my interests.”

  His eyes were glittering chips of onyx stone. Abby lifted her chin, not caring for his sharp tone, or his insinuation of any nefarious planning on her part. She met his gaze head-on.

  “Understood.” She snatched the folder from his fingers. “You want an heir, I want a baby. It’s that simple, Mr. Whitmore.”

  His gaze left hers and raked down her scrubs in an almost tangible caress. She clutched the contract to her chest, hating the way her nipples puckered in response to his curious eyes. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, before letting it slowly slip out, leaving it moist, plump, kissable. Abby sucked in a breath as a shockwave shot to her hormones and a chain reaction followed. Her pussy felt tight, and a dull ache settled low in her core. The intimacy of the private office teased her, and her mind drifted in completely wrong directions.

  Abby shook free of the sudden madness. How she could have such a visceral reaction to the man was beyond her.

  Liam blinked and looked away from her. “Have the contract signed and ready when you arrive at the jet. Aspen has cool days and cold nights this time of year, pack accordingly.” With that he returned to his computer, dismissing her. Despite his good looks, and the kindness he showed his mother, he’d been crafted from the same material as Whitmore Tower—cold, lifeless steel. She was nothing more than a business deal.

  Abby turned on her heel and marched out of the office, reminding herself the ranch needed the money, and how much she wanted the baby. Nothing else mattered but those two things. Not Liam, not his grating personality, only her father, brother, and the baby.

  Abby stopped at the elevator and hit the ground floor button.

  “Hello there.”

  Abby jumped, startled. She looked up and met a pair of curious gray eyes. “Uh, hello.”

  “It’s spectacular, isn’t it?” he asked. He smoothed a hand over his red silk tie and she focused on a platinum tiepin monogrammed with SD.

  She lifted an eyebrow. “I’m not following.”

  “Whitmore Tower.” He flashed a broad smile. “The whole building is like this, even the lower levels. Of course this floor had the most expense put into it.”

  Abby gave him a tight grin. His pleasantries put her on edge for some reason, and she focused on the elevator doors, willing them to open. “Yeah, it’s something.”

  “Were you here to see Cathy in HR?”

  “No, I had business with Mr. Whitmore.”

  The man chuckled. “You didn’t look like you were here for the janitorial position. Though I wouldn’t complain if you were.” His gaze drifted over her body. “Not at all.”

  Abby bit her tongue. The elevator chimed and the doors slid open. Abby strode inside. The man gave her a little salute as the doors slid shut. She let out a breath, grateful he hadn’t followed her inside. Passengers got on and off on her trip down as she squeezed into a corner, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. She held the manila folder to her chest, partly as a shield, and partly to hide the stains on her top.

  Annoyance mixed with her insecurity. She’d stepped into Narnia wholly unprepared and terribly underdressed for the occasion. They were no better than she was, but it didn’t stop the white-collar workers from assessing her blue-collar appearance. And it didn’t stop the smart remarks that formed in Abby’s mind, though she stifled them. What would they think of her father and brother, covered in dirt and smelling of cow dung after a hard day’s work?

  The rift between her and Liam stretched into a vast gulf. She was a lowly broodmare for the rich megalomaniac—someone nondescript to meet his needs and then be put aside. As would the baby.

  Their equal footing vanished. Abby had been in this spot before, feeling two steps below a man she’d needed at the time—or at least thought she had. A horrible and ugly lesson she’d learned with bruises to back it up. She swallowed the bitter taste of the memory. Mr. Whitmore wouldn’t take away any part of her, she decided. Not one sliver of the self-confidence she’d worked so hard for over the years.

  When she left Whitmore Tower, she’d already made a very clear decision to never step foot inside it again.

  Chapter 7

  The fire flashing in the nurse’s eyes had struck Liam in an appealing way. He’d glimpsed it outside his mother’s home and he’d been granted another view of it today. She could stare a hole through granite, and being on the receiving end of her glare excited him. The stubborn set of her mouth let him know she had plenty of fight; she wouldn’t be one to back down from what she believed in.

  Abigail continued to surprise him. He’d initially misjudged her as a person with a more passive personality. He appreciated someone who would stand up for themselves and look him square in the eye. When he pushed, he wanted a woman who’d push back and not simply give in to make him happy, as was his general dating history. When women were concerned with his fortune, they usually cared little about what he did.

  His physical attraction mixed with respect for Abigail, and respect was a hard-won thing in his view. Not many could claim it from him. He shifted beneath an uncomfortable erection and turned his attention back to the computer screen, but he couldn’t keep his mind on the company information he scrolled through. He reminded himself the coming week would involve conception. Not a search for a compatible mate, even if the idea teased him now.

  Liam wasn’t ready to settle down, and he had no extra room in his life to spare. Whitmore Incorporated took it all. He couldn’t even entertain casually dating the nurse, not if she had a baby on the way. Things would get messy and complicated. There would be schedules to juggle, trying to squeeze out bits and pieces of nonexistent free time for Abigail and doctors’ appointments. Then for her and a newborn—he couldn’t abandon a new mother to the shock of parenthood all on her own, not if he’d invested in a relationship with the woman. And later children’s soccer games, ballet recitals…

  He sought the suffocation he normally felt for such things, but found it absent. Not finding it disturbed him. Liam didn’t want to work out why the independence he counted on didn’t seem to fill all the gaps inside him. Or why his imagination wanted to put together a mental photograph for the child he and Abigail produced. Stress and sleepless nights were doing a number on Liam’s mental state. It was the best explanation he could come up with for the ideas revolving around the nurse that’d toyed with his thoughts the last few days.

  He leaned back in his chair and stared toward the ceiling, wishing for a glass of bourbon. Out of the question, of course, since it was in the middle of the work day. The last thing he needed was a drinking habit, not with everything else that weighed on him. He’d taken to his bourbon more than usual in the evenings, even though he kept telling himself he’d cut back.

  He balled his hands into fists and bumped them on his thighs. Liam prided himself as being a disciplined man, had been most of his life, and watching that solidity slip even an inch tried his patience.

  A knock sounded. Before he could acknowledge the intrusion, Spencer strode in.

  “What do you want?” Liam growled, shooting his relation an annoyed glare.

  Spencer shut the door quietly behind him and gave his cousin a broad smile. “I see you had a visitor today.”

  Liam refused to meet Spencer’s gaze and spun back to his computer. “It’s a private matter.”

  “You’re too hostile, Liam, calm down. You’ve found the mother to your heir, I take it.”
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  Liam forced his face into an impassive mask. Spencer had always been frustratingly perceptive. “What makes you think that?”

  “A pretty young thing dressed in scrubs shows up here to see you personally. Leaves with a folder full of papers. My guess, she’s probably cared for Aunt Caroline, and that’s how you know her. Am I getting warm?”

  “Do you have this quarter’s financial statements, Spencer?” Liam asked, diverting the line of questioning. Like hell he’d ever let Spencer in on any personal issue when it could easily be twisted and used against him. Especially when it came to fulfilling his end of the will and screwing Spencer out of a fortune.

  “How much did you offer her?” Spencer pressed on.

  Liam remained silent, grinding his teeth.

  “I know you must’ve offered her cash, though I imagine she could’ve made a fortune selling her story to the tabloids.” Spencer shoved his hands in his pants pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Do you know anything about her, cousin?” Spencer lifted his hand when Liam opened his mouth to comment. “I’m only trying to be the voice of reason here. Have you looked into her background, because who knows what could be lurking in her history? You might be getting into something you didn’t count on. Just because she has a nice pair of tits and open legs—”

  “Financial statements or get the fuck out of my office.” Liam kept his voice level, though his pulse throbbed in his temples while he kept a tight rein on his temper. Hearing Spencer fling insults toward Abigail made him furious, and he didn’t dare look toward his cousin.

  Spencer cleared his throat. “I’ll forward them to you today.”

  He left as calmly as he’d entered. His cousin believed he’d already won and probably had the deal for Whitmore drawn up. Liam balled his fist and slammed it down on the desk top, jarring a container of ink pens and knocking it over. He ignored the pens as several rolled off onto the floor. A stranger who’d weigh one hundred twenty pounds sopping wet held the future of Whitmore Incorporated in her hands. An empire built on hard work and sacrifice balanced on Abigail, who most likely knew nothing of the corporation. The loss of control over his own future was a bitter pill to swallow.