Falling for the Billionaire Wolf and His Baby, Page 2

  But seeing Finnegan Dean waiting for her in the lobby, cell phone to his ear, looking every bit the master of his domain, threw her off center again. His gaze swept over her, the slight furrow of his brows a question. She looked away, pretending to find the framed art in the lobby mesmerizing. She stood, waiting. His tone was no longer soft. No, each syllable dripped agitation. He glanced at her, nodded, and headed toward the front doors.

  She hadn’t expected him to wait for her, holding the door open, but he did, and she hurried through. When his hand rested on her lower back, Jessa shuddered. Electricity hummed up her spine, leaving her dazed. Being attracted to this man was a very bad thing. One she’d have to work on getting over.

  Then his hand was gone, Mr. Dean’s long strides putting distance between them.

  She followed, trying to keep up in heels meant for walking, not jogging. A black car waited out front, the driver holding the back door wide. Mr. Dean climbed in, but Jessa hesitated, gripped with a sense of foreboding and uncertainty.

  “Miss Talbot?” Mr. Dean’s voice was tight, impatient.

  She hurried forward, the driver offering her a slight smile as she climbed in behind Finnegan.

  “I’ll be there,” he snapped. “Damage control is your job. A job you’re paid very well to do.”

  A long silence fell over the car. She cast a quick glance his way. He was looking at her. Not her—her legs. She smoothed her hands over her skirt, tugging the fabric into place. His fingers tightened around his phone, and his gaze met hers. She folded her hands in her lap to hide their slight tremble.

  “I need you to make sure there are no surprises,” he finished, and hung up, still looking at her. But it was the way he was looking at her that was unnerving. She had a hard time breathing when his gaze bore into hers.

  The car went over a bump, jolting Jessa and snapping her out of her daze and back to cool, calm, and professional. “Mr. Dean, I have questions,” she began.

  “I imagine you do.” He nodded, a slight smile hovering on his lips—lips Jessa was far too distracted by.

  She smoothed her skirt again, focusing on his eyes, not his mouth. His clear, pale blue eyes. “What will this job entail?”

  “Preparing my house for an infant. Finding the right person to work as my son’s nanny.”

  She drew in a deep breath. “The mother—”

  “Died in childbirth.” His voice was devoid of emotion.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

  His gaze left her, his attention focused on the view outside their window. “I didn’t know her well.”

  She digested this news. His image was splashed across countless magazines and tabloids with a bevy of models, actresses, and debutantes. But he was rarely seen with the same woman for long. He’d earned the nickname “Speedster,” a dig at both his dating style and his fondness for fast cars.

  “Why not use an outside agency?” she asked.

  “When I know my son has no special needs, I—you—will.” He checked his watch, impatient. “Until then, you want a stable career and need financial security. You have a vested interest, one that ensures your complete discretion. I need someone I can trust implicitly.”

  She stared at him.

  “I know nothing about children. Nothing. You, on the other hand, do.” He glanced at his phone then pulled a file from his black leather bag. “To be blunt, I don’t have time for this. I will do what I can to ensure you do the rest. I need to leave it in your capable hands—not worry about it. I also need your signature on these.”

  It? Project? So, Mr. Dean wasn’t the paternal type. He’d suffered a shock and wasn’t ready to accept his son yet. He would, in time—surely.

  She scanned over the papers, processing the bizarre turn her morning had taken. A non-disclosure agreement? A man in his position would expect as much. In a sort of sad way, it made sense. She took the pen and signed the paper, then glanced out the window at the busy San Antonio streets. “A newborn is a lot of work—”

  “As I said, six weeks. After that, you’ll be relieved by the nanny selected.”

  She nodded, her suspicions confirmed. “Babies don’t keep office hours.”

  His chuckle was soft—and far too delectable. “No, I don’t suppose they do.” He paused. “Your brothers are old enough to handle things for a short time?”

  She nodded, the unexpected rasp of his chuckle rendering her speechless. Pathetic.

  “Once we pick him up, we will stop to collect your things. This is for you,” he said, handing her a cell phone. “My numbers, my housekeeper, and the driver’s numbers are all programmed, as well as any alarm codes.” He offered her a set of keys on a large gold ring, and a black charge card. “These are yours. Anything you need, use the card.”

  Day and night. With Finnegan Dean. She should be thrilled, not nervous. She took the keys and card, placing them in her purse. “What do you have for…him?”

  He frowned. “Nothing.”

  She hesitated, her mind working ahead. “A car seat?” she asked.

  He shook his head.

  “They won’t let us take him without a car seat,” she argued.

  His frown increased. “I’m sure they will—”

  “No, Mr. Dean, it’s the law,” she assured him, trying not to smile. “The law is the law, even for you.”

  He laughed, surprising her. “Fine. A car seat. And where do we get a car seat?”

  She smiled. “Two blocks up, on the left. They should have them at Klemp’s Store.”

  Chapter Two

  Finn watched Jessa Talbot read over the safety brochures attached to the infant car seats. Her scent had been damn-near crippling since she’d closed herself in his office. He’d hoped the dumpy, aging redhead in accounting had been Jessa Talbot. She definitely wasn’t. His wolf was thrilled—and on the verge of taking control. Just his luck.

  A distraction. A dangerous distraction.

  He would never have hired this woman for that very reason.

  It didn’t matter how impressive her résumé was. Or how agreeable she was. She was a no-go zone. He couldn’t afford to employ people who threatened his control. And something about her had very definitely put his wolf on high-alert.

  Her scent didn’t help. She smelled like heaven. Sweet. Feminine. Something that needed protection—from someone like him.

  It didn’t matter. Complicated or not, she was all he had. He needed her. That trumped everything else. Including the urge to push her into his bed and bury himself inside her. He wasn’t an animal, no matter what the fuck the wolf thought. She was the person he—they—needed. Knowledge that eased some of the worry crushing him since Hollis’s call.

  A child was involved now. His son.

  Hollis’s warning still rang in his ears. “When they find out about him, he’s in danger. Real danger. We all are.”

  “This is the one,” Jessa said, patting the large, navy-blue monstrosity. “Best crash test ratings.” She winced at the price tag. “It’s a little pricey.”

  He reached for the tag, his fingers brushing hers. He bit back a hiss, glad she withdrew her hand so quickly. This was going to be difficult. Drowning in her scent was bad enough. But the thrill of awareness—almost recognition—touching her caused was something else. He’d have to be more careful. He focused on the now-bent tag he held, glanced at the price, then her. “Miss Talbot. You’re buying for me now. This is not pricey.”

  She pressed her lips together.

  “What?” he asked. Her lips were full and, undoubtedly, soft.

  “Nothing,” she argued.

  “Say it,” he pushed, enjoying the play of emotion on her face. She was very expressive.

  “For the real world, this is pricey, Mr. Dean.” She nodded at the car seat, smiling.

  “Well, you’re living in my world now,” he said, amused—and irritated. She had no idea what that statement truly meant. His world was undoubtedly more like one of Jessa Talbot’s nightmares. He needed t
o remember that where she was concerned.

  He left her to check out then headed back to the car. Restlessness gripped him. Anger. Frustration. Impatience. He’d been careful. His life was a well-oiled, carefully constructed machine, with minimal to no hiccups. Every decision was analyzed, every outcome considered. Everything he did was premeditated, ensuring his secret was kept. No one would ever know what he was—what he’d done to his friends.

  Hell, the only risks he’d taken the last ten years had been in business.

  His personal life left no room for risks. No complications. No entanglements. No commitments. If he was attracted to a woman, he made sure they understood that and the inevitable outcome. Few turned him down. He’d met Cara four months ago; she’d been no different. They’d had a great week, lots of sex—all protected—and parted ways. And yet, somehow, she still ended up pregnant with his baby.

  He was a father.

  He had a baby. A son.

  A fucking ticking time bomb.

  The five of them had sworn this infection, as Hollis liked to call it, would end with them. Hollis. Dante. Anders. Malachi. And him. They had no way of predicting what their offspring would be, so kids, families, were off the table. None of them wanted anyone else getting hurt…

  Anders would give him shit, but he’d laugh it off.

  Dante’s expression would say it all. It’d be hard to look him in the eye for a while.

  Hollis was disappointed. But the man was a scientist first, and there was no denying he was excited to see Finnegan Dean’s latest creation.

  But Malachi. Mal hadn’t said one word to him in nine years. This wouldn’t change much. Unless Mal decided to come kick his ass. Finn wouldn’t even fight back.

  They needed to know. They had a right to know. This baby would impact them all.

  As much as he valued his independence, he’d never felt so alone. He’d fucked up big. Again. Hollis was his answer man, and he didn’t have any. Only time would tell.

  How much time was another question.

  But for now, this baby needed to be kept safe. Away from the world. Away from those that would see his existence as a threat. From those that would hunt him.

  That’s why he would put up with Jessa.

  Why did her presence make his other side fight to take over? Some haywire instinct wanted her close—even though keeping her at arm’s length was the right choice. She was the ultimate temptation for a man like him, and he’d just invited her home.

  Fuck it.

  Six weeks. He could do this. He would do this. He frowned. Temptation aside, instinct told him he could trust her. He’d have to hold on to that and hope the odd reaction his wolf was having would fade. Either way, when time was up, he’d find a place for her. One that kept her far from him. He had a London office, which might be the best option.

  “Thomas needs to install it,” Jessa was saying to him.

  Who the hell was Thomas? He’d been blindly staring at his phone, so lost in his thoughts he’d missed her arrival. A store clerk stood holding the enormous car seat that would carry his baby son home. His name badge read Thomas.

  He’d been pacing, currently he was blocking the car door. He moved without a word, watching as the young man climbed in and walked Jessa through the safety features and how to ensure the seat was secure. She stooped, leaning in to see and hear. The view of her delectable backside snagged Finn’s full attention.

  The wolf wasn’t the only one appreciating her lush hips, trim thighs, sculpted calves, all showcased by her fitted pencil skirt and heels. He closed his eyes, the thump of her heartbeat echoing in his ears. He listened, the primal thrill of connection sending his blood south and making him shove his hands in his pockets. He was rock hard, the zipper of his pants uncomfortable.

  Jessa was off-limits. She had to be. For her safety.

  She probably already had some adoring boyfriend that sent her flowers, remembered her birthdays, and enjoyed snuggling on the couch and watching movies with her. A normal guy, without full-moon phobias and the tendency to rip people to bits. Lucky bastard.

  She stepped back, her heel catching in the sidewalk crack, and tipped backward. He moved, catching her. The crush of her curves against his straining erection had him biting off a curse. His hands tightened on her arms, ensuring she was safe. He held her, blindsided by the surge of ownership that tore through him. Let her go, he demanded of his wolf. He released her, sidestepping around her as the clerk climbed out of the car.

  He avoided her stare, grappling with the rush still coursing through his body. What the fuck was that? He didn’t know. He didn’t want to know. Ignoring her, ignoring this, was the right choice.

  “That should do it. If you have questions, you can call me.” Thomas’s tone was a little too friendly for Finn’s liking. Clearly, Thomas wasn’t immune to Jessa’s charms. And he had no problem being obvious about it, either. “And if I can help you with anything else, you know where to find me. Anytime.”

  Finn shot the young man a look. “We need to go,” he said.

  “Yes, of course,” she agreed, hurrying around to get into the car.

  Get a fucking grip. This was not the time to get territorial. He rested his head on the seat back until the roaring pulse in his veins eased. Only then did he risk glancing at her. If he wasn’t careful, she’d walk, money or not, which was something he couldn’t risk. He needed to keep his shit together. If he was lucky, she’d never learn what he or his son were. Jessa Talbot was an essential employee—nothing more. She seemed to be inventorying the contents of the large bag at her feet. His eyes traveled over her profile, the curve of her nose, the length of her neck. A beautiful essential employee. And her pulse, her breathing… Was she aware of him? Or was she simply anxious from all the changes the last thirty minutes had delivered? Dammit. “Supplies?” he asked, breaking the silence.

  “I tried to be quick. Diapers,” she said, peering into the bag. “And wipes. Some bottles, infant formula, a few gowns and blankets. This won’t last long.”

  “I imagine you could call Thomas and he would deliver?” he asked, sounding far too condescending.

  She turned, regarding him with bright green eyes. “Probably.”

  “Good.” He cleared his throat and pulled his phone from his pocket. “Make a list, call him, and have it delivered.” He answered emails, checked stocks, anything to prevent staring at her.

  The rest of the drive was silent. The closer they got to the hospital, the thicker the tension became. He wasn’t angry; there was no reason to be angry. He was on edge because of the whole situation. Not because he couldn’t have a normal life. Be a normal man. Have a normal relationship. He understood those things, accepted them. But right now, the weight of shit he shouldered seemed heavier than usual. Unease knotted his stomach.

  He was hyperaware of his surroundings as they entered the hospital. The heat and crush of people. The myriad hum of voices and machines. The lingering smell of blood and bleach. He took it all in, every sense on high alert, braced, ready. By the time they climbed onto the elevator, his heart was thundering.

  “Are you all right?” Jessa asked. Her eyes radiated concern—true sympathy. The gentle pressure of her hand on his arm was oddly soothing, for him and the beast inside. He wanted to draw her closer, touch her. He didn’t. He stared at her hand and drew in a deep breath. “I think so.”

  She squeezed lightly, then seemed to realize she was touching him. She lifted her hand and smiled. “My aunt used to say life only gives us what we can handle.”

  “I’m not sure I agree. I’m not handling this, you are.” Her aunt had no idea. His attention wandered to her throat, the slight thrum of her pulse. He closed his eyes, letting her even heartbeat steady him, her scent fill him.

  “This?” she asked. “A baby? There’s not much mystery to them. They cry, sleep, and eat.”

  He studied her face, admiring her confidence. “Perhaps I have a few things in common with my son.”


  She laughed.

  The doors opened and the two of them walked to the nurse’s desk. After that, things blurred together. The hospital room. The nurse giving Jessa papers, talking and talking. Words that made no sense. A metal cart rolling into the room. The flutter of a heartbeat, the rapid, shallow breathing of the infant inside. But it was the scent that spoke the truth.

  He wasn’t prepared for the tidal wave of emotion that engulfed him. He, Finnegan Dean, was a monster.

  Now he was a father.

  He had a son.

  The first-born werewolf of his reluctant pack.

  …

  Jessa stared around the large bedroom, the magnitude of the last few hours registering. She was in Finnegan Dean’s house. She was moving into Finnegan Dean’s house. And, no matter how hard she wanted to deny it, something about the man fascinated her. No, “fascinated” wasn’t strong enough.

  This is bad.

  She glanced at the clock on the wall. After the enormity of the morning, it seemed impossible that it was only three o’clock. Once they’d left the hospital, Mr. Dean had offered to stop to get her things, but she hadn’t wanted to keep Oscar out in the cold any longer than necessary. Her brother Harry was bringing over a bag of her things around five—not that he was happy about it. She’d tried to explain the situation but thought it would be easier to do so face-to-face. Without Mr. Dean within earshot of the conversation.

  A soft squeak on the bed made her turn.

  Oscar. Oscar Finnegan Dean the Fourth to be precise. A precious baby boy, sound asleep on her bed. This little guy was her responsibility.

  A responsibility that gave her a new life. No more Miss Ramirez. No heels. No office politics. For now. Late night feedings and diaper changes were nothing. It was more like a six-week vacation.

  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.