Falling for the Billionaire Wolf and His Baby (Blood Moon Brotherhood) Page 3

A vacation in a swanky hotel.

  A vacation with a man who seemed to have a direct line to her nervous system. Everything about him set off a current, white-hot, startling, and throbbing. He’d headed for the office after showing her around, but he’d be back eventually. She needed to figure out how to control her response to him—or cut the connection altogether. This job was just too important.

  Her room looked like something out of an architecture and design magazine. Bold finishes. Modern fixtures. Muted colors. Even with a king-size bed, a desk, and a chaise before the large floor-to-ceiling picture windows, her room felt almost empty.

  As impressive as the space was, it didn’t radiate warmth. Or home. Or happiness. She glanced at the sleeping baby and smiled. “Not that you’ll notice for a while.” Oscar’s mouth nursing, his little fingers splayed, then clenched as he slept on. He was perfect.

  She tucked the blanket around him and padded barefoot across the room. Staring down through the window, she could see the busy streets below, the traffic and pedestrians of downtown San Antonio steady. The rest of the world hadn’t changed—even if hers had.

  But she still had work to do.

  She settled at her desk, opened the laptop already set up, and pulled out the suggested supply list from the hospital. She searched for Klemp’s site online and started shopping. Before she hit buy, she picked up her new phone and called. Thomas guaranteed delivery within the next few hours.

  Once that was done, she sat on the bed by Oscar. He was beautiful. She’d only held him long enough to move him from the bassinette to his car seat, but his slight weight and baby smell had tugged something deep inside of her. He’d made an adorable gurgle, sighed, and settled into an easy sleep. She’d tucked the thick blanket she’d purchased around him and stood back, but Mr. Dean hadn’t offered to carry him.

  In fact, Mr. Dean hadn’t offered to touch his son. He’d barely looked at him.

  “It’s okay, Oscar, your daddy will figure it out soon enough,” she said, stroking the baby’s cheek. “Sometimes grown-ups take a while to adjust to changes. And, tiny as you are, you’re a huge change for someone like your father.”

  Oscar grunted, wiggled, and burst into tears.

  She grinned and picked him up. She cradled him close, once more appreciating just how tiny he was. “Are you tired of lying there?” she asked. “Well, let’s get you changed and something to eat.”

  She’d unloaded her bag from Klemps earlier, prepared for the eventual end of Oscar’s nap. She changed his diaper, inspecting his toes and fingers, his long legs, a birthmark on his little hip, and rounded tummy. He was perfect—and red-faced and screaming by the time he was swaddled and cradled against her chest.

  “Come on,” she said, unruffled. “Let’s get you something to eat, shall we?”

  Mr. Dean’s housekeeper, Augustina, wasn’t the least bit pleased with Jessa or Oscar’s arrival. And since she had no idea what Mr. Dean had said to the woman by way of introduction, she could do little but make small talk and act like nothing was out of the ordinary.

  She smiled at the middle-aged woman as she made Oscar’s bottle, chatting to the baby the whole time. She’d always done that; her mother had told her the best thing she could do with her brothers was talk to them and let them hear her voice. It made them feel less afraid and alone—or so her mother had said.

  Once the formula was ready, Jessa cradled Oscar and offered him the bottle.

  “He’s loud,” Augustina said.

  “He is,” Jessa agreed.

  “There’s a rocking chair in the front room,” Augustina said, pointing. “Through there.”

  “Thank you.” Jessa left, carefully cuddling Oscar as she headed down the hall and into the front room. It was as modern as the rest of the house. Impressive, but stark. The rocking chair resembled a piece of modern art but was surprisingly comfortable. She sat, bracing Oscar on her shoulder to burp him. He did, with gusto.

  “Well, that was impressive,” she said, laughing.

  She looked up to find Finnegan Dean standing in the doorway. He was watching them curiously, frozen in place. “It was,” he agreed.

  Oscar fussed then, so Jessa offered him the rest of the bottle. “Would you like to feed him, Mr. Dean?”

  “No,” he said, his gaze intense.

  She turned her focus back to the baby then. If Oscar Finnegan Dean the third wasn’t ready to accept Oscar Finnegan Dean the fourth, then she’d have to compensate for it. At least for now.

  “Did you shop?” he asked.

  “Yes. Thomas said everything would arrive by five,” she said.

  “I’m sure he did,” he said softly. “Anytime now.”

  She nodded. “Which room is Oscar’s?”

  “The one next to yours,” he said. “I’ll have it emptied.” He typed something on his phone. “What else?”

  She shook her head. “Do you have any requirements you’d like the nanny agency to consider? I know it’s early, but I want to contact them now, give them time to pull the best candidates versus waiting until the last minute.”

  “Experience and length of service with each family.” He leaned against the doorframe, looking at the baby in her arms. “I don’t want him to get attached to someone who will leave him.”

  She nodded, glancing at Oscar. He was dozing, his little pink lips sliding off the bottle. She smiled, lifted him against her shoulder, and patted his back.

  “No one under forty. I don’t want anyone hoping to get to me through him,” he added.

  She looked at Finnegan Dean, struggling to understand the position he was in. He was a wealthy, gorgeous man. Of course women would use any angle available to try to win him over. What would that be like, to be so sought after? To be wary and suspect of everyone you met? Clearly he didn’t feel that way about her. She didn’t know if that was a compliment…or an insult. She decided to believe the former.

  “I’ll do my best, Mr. Dean.” She stood, walking closer. “He has long legs and a birthmark on his hip.”

  “Does he… Ten fingers and toes?” He stared at the baby with…fear?

  Poor Finnegan Dean. She smiled. “He’s perfect. Would you like to hold him?”

  “No.” His gaze moved to her then. “Not yet.”

  She nodded, gripped with sympathy. She was still processing the changes in her day, but this wasn’t her life. In six weeks, her life would return to normal—for the most part. But Mr. Dean would come home to his son every night until the day little Oscar went off to college. A daunting change for a man used to freedom.

  She shifted Oscar in her arms, his little hand catching the silk neckline of her blouse and pulling the fabric down. The lace edge of her pale pink bra was a stark contrast to her dark gray blouse. She lifted his tiny hand and tucked it into his blanket, her cheeks hot as she tried to adjust her clothing.

  She glanced at Mr. Dean, hoping he’d missed the whole slip. He stood, his eyes pressed tightly closed and his brow furrowed deeply.

  The doorman buzzed, and Mr. Dean’s eyes opened, his gaze slipping over her. “Thomas,” he murmured.

  “Or Harry,” she offered, hurrying to explain Harry’s no-doubt irritated attitude. “He’s not thrilled that he’ll be in charge. If he’s a bit prickly, that’s why.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Mr. Dean smiled, pressing the button by the intercom. “Yes?”

  “A large delivery sir,” the doorman said.

  Oscar chose that moment to burp then dissolved into tears. She patted him, bouncing him gently in her arms, while Finnegan Dean stared in horror. She carried the baby out, knowing Oscar’s screams were hard to talk over. She kept bouncing and patting, making her way to her room. Once there, she changed Oscar into a dry diaper and wrapped him in a clean blanket before scooping him up and walking toward the window.

  He calmed, grunting and wriggling until he was comfortable enough to fall back to sleep.

  She spread another blanket on the middle of the bed and lai
d Oscar on his back, surrounding him with pillows for her benefit. He was too little to roll, she knew that. She waited, one hand resting on his swaddled body, to ensure he was sleeping peacefully. He didn’t stir, but his little mouth suckled in his sleep, and she stood. She smiled, left the door ajar, and made her way down the hall.

  “Hey, Jessa,” Thomas said, waiting. “You want to check over the list and make sure we have everything you requested?”

  She took the clipboard from him, checking off each item before signing off. “I appreciate how prompt you were.”

  “If you point me in the right direction, I’ll assemble the crib before I go,” he offered.

  She led him down the hall to the room that adjoined hers through a shared bathroom. It was a large, airy room with a wonderful view of the new park. She could imagine a window seat with pillows piled high and a tower of books to read.

  “I think it will fit here,” she said.

  He nodded.

  “Do you need anything?” she asked.

  “I brought my own tools.” He smiled, looking at her with an appreciative eye.

  “I’ll leave you to it,” she said, turning to go…and found Mr. Dean watching them. “This is Oscar’s room? It’s perfect, lots of room to grow.” She smiled at him. “Thomas has offered to assemble the crib.”

  “Good,” Mr. Dean said. “I have a conference call soon. I’ll be unavailable for some time.”

  She nodded. She understood why he was here, working from home, and that today was one distraction after another. Not his norm. He was usually at the office late. Lara, the fifth-floor receptionist and her frequent lunch buddy, lived to tell her all about Finnegan Dean’s comings and goings. And, per Lara, Mr. Dean was a schedule man. “I’ll try to keep things quiet.”

  He nodded, glanced at Thomas, and left.

  “Your boss is pretty intense,” Thomas said once they were alone. “But I love Dean Automotive cars. Some of the few cars on the road that still have a unique profile.”

  She nodded. “You can spot a Dean vehicle a mile away.”

  “Good company to work for?” Thomas asked, opening the box and pulling out the pieces.

  “Definitely,” she agreed.

  “So, Jessa, what do you do after hours?” he asked, smiling.

  She smiled back. “I go home to three younger brothers. And a sister, though she’s out of state—at college. Never a dull moment in my house.”

  “Three?” He frowned. “They have to approve your dates?”

  She laughed. “I don’t date very often.”

  “I’d like to change that,” he said. “Maybe, if you’re free, you’d consider having dinner with me?”

  He was nice. And handsome. The kind of guy that would be easy to fall into a relationship with. Maybe she should give it a try. It had been two years since she broke up with Benjamin. And there were times she forgot she was a young woman with every right to a social life.

  “When would this dinner date be?” she asked. “I’m on call for…a while.” Six weeks sounded like a put-off, and she didn’t want him to think she wasn’t interested. He was definite maybe.

  “After a while sounds good,” he said, smiling. “Since I’m thinking you’ll be needing more baby supplies in the meantime?”

  “Probably,” she agreed.

  He nodded, leveling her with a look of pure masculine appreciation.

  She heard the intercom buzzer and hurried from the room.

  “Yes?”

  “Miss Talbot? There’s a Mr. Harry Talbot here to see you?” the doorman’s voice crackled.

  “Please send him up,” she said, pressing the button.

  Five minutes later, Harry arrived. His confusion was almost comical.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, lugging her large suitcase behind him. “You’re shacking up with your boss?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Really, Harry? I’m not shacking up with anyone.” She took the smaller suitcase from him and led him down the hall to her room. “I am helping Mr. Dean out for a while,” she explained. “Did you bring everything I asked?”

  He followed her into her room. “I hope so. Nice digs,” he said. “This is only for a couple of weeks, right?”

  “Maybe more.” She nodded, intentionally vague to prevent full-blown panic on the home front. She and Oscar would be making regular visits; she was certain of that. “You found the schedule I emailed? There are plenty of casseroles in the freezer to last a while. Do not order pizza every night.”

  Harry sighed.

  “I mean it,” she continued. “Pizza is expensive and, unless you get a second job, an extravagance we can’t afford.”

  “I know,” he said. “This the rug rat?” he asked, looking at Oscar sleeping on the bed. “He’s cute. Super new, from the looks of him.”

  “This is Oscar,” she said. Oscar kept right on snoozing, making her smile. “Oscar, this is Harry, my little brother.”

  “He’s thrilled to meet me,” Harry said.

  “Everyone’s thrilled to meet you, Harry.” She hugged her brother. “Promise me you’ll keep everything on track.”

  “Jessa, I am about to graduate from college. I think I can make sure the others don’t burn down the house for a week—”

  “And make sure homework gets done. If you don’t check it, it’s not done. Trust me on this,” she added. “And make sure Nate takes his asthma meds and gets to his guitar lesson.”

  “And has karate on Tuesday, I know,” he said, sounding exasperated.

  “Okay, fine, I’ll lay off,” she said.

  Harry laughed. “That’ll be a first.”

  She laughed, too. “Smart-ass.”

  “So all the stuff piled in the hallway is for him?” Harry asked. “How does something so little need so much?”

  “I was wondering the same thing,” Mr. Dean said, joining them. “But I trust your sister’s judgement entirely. Finnegan Dean,” he said, offering his hand. “You must be Harry?”

  Harry shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Dean.”

  “Finn, please,” Mr. Dean said.

  “Finn,” Harry repeated. “My sister is all-knowing when it comes to kids—plenty of experience. And she’s frugal. So, if she bought it, she must think you need it.”

  She smiled. “You’re being nice.”

  Harry grinned. “I didn’t think you’d appreciate me calling you a tightwad in front of your boss.”

  Finnegan Dean laughed. “I appreciate someone watching my overhead expenses for me.”

  She glanced at Mr. Dean, more than a little stunned by just how beautiful he was when he laughed, then her brother. “Feeding three teenage boys is all about watching expenses. So, remember, there are plenty of casseroles in the freezer. You will not starve, no matter what the others might say.”

  “I got it, I got it,” Harry said, holding up his hands.

  She frowned at him. “We’ll see how long you go before you call me.”

  “Why not write up a list, and I’ll have it delivered,” Mr. Dean offered.

  “You don’t have to,” she assured him.

  “It’s no trouble. Considering the inconvenience I’ve caused your family,” he continued.

  She tried again, “No inconvenience—”

  “I insist, Miss Talbot.” His tone was authoritative, ending her arguments and giving rise to a slight flare of irritation.

  “Just call this number and tell them what you want when you need it. No questions asked.” He handed Harry a card.

  Harry glanced at her, reluctant, before tucking the card into his pocket. “Thank you. Guess I should head out, make sure homework is getting done and the house isn’t in a state of emergency.” He winked at her, dropping a kiss on her cheek. “Don’t worry, Jessa. We can behave.”

  She arched a brow. “When you want to.”

  “Mr. Dean—Finn.” Harry nodded at Finn.

  “Nice to meet you, Harry,” he said. “I’ll walk you out.”

  S
he tried to dismiss her irritation. She had a hard time taking help from others. Most of her life had been about becoming self-sufficient. And while Finnegan Dean might think nothing of his offer, it was no small thing to her.

  She unpacked the infant monitor and put in batteries, then cut off tags and set Oscar’s new clothing aside to wash. She’d prefer to wash everything before using them on Oscar, to ensure the he didn’t have allergies.

  She glanced at the baby, still sleeping, and smiled. So little and helpless. She could only imagine the life this boy would have, the experiences and adventures he’d live. Travel, the best education, and wealth.… And, right now, it was up to her to find the best person to love him—other than his father.

  She sat on the bed, placing a hand on the baby boy. “Don’t you worry, Oscar. I’ll find you the best nanny. She’ll give you kisses and hugs, and twirl you around. She’ll sing to you and read with you and play pretend and let you make messes. You can count on me.”

  Chapter Three

  Finnegan stood outside her door, frozen. You can count on me. She meant it, he heard it in her voice.

  That wasn’t something he’d heard a lot of growing up. If anything, his parents’ absence was the one thing he could count on. How many nannies had he and his brother gone through in their youth? Not that he and Philip had ever given them a reason to stick around. They were too eager to put tacks in their nannies’ chairs and hemorrhoid cream in place of their toothpaste. They were relentless. So much so, their parents had divided them up, sending them to boarding schools on opposite sides of the country. By the time they’d reached college, they were different people—never as close as they were. Then Philip met Annie, and Finn had been infected. Being close to anyone was no longer an option.

  You can count on me.

  Jessa’s humming reached him, soft and sweet. Just like she was. Exactly what he wanted for his son. Oscar deserved that—to have someone read and sing and laugh with him. To love him unconditionally. He didn’t know how to do that, how to let anyone close. The risk was too great.

  He turned on his heel and headed back across the apartment. Why the hell had he come home early to begin with? There was enough work to keep him occupied at the office, away from the distractions.