The Baby Inheritance (Billionaires and Babies) Page 2

  It was lovely—surfers gliding toward shore on the tops of waves. Sunlight glinting off the deep blue surface of the sea. Boats with jewel-toned sails and children building castles in the sand armed with nothing more than tiny buckets and shovels.

  Lilah was a mountain girl, through and through. Her preferred view was of a tree-laden slope, wide-open meadows covered in bright splashes of wildflowers or the snowy mountainsides that backed up to her house. But looking out at the Pacific was a nice change. Of course, she had time to look at the sea while driving only because she wasn’t actually “driving.” It was more…parking.

  Pacific Coast Highway was completely backed up with locals, tourists and, it seemed to her, every surfer in Southern California. It was the middle of June and Lilah could imagine that the crowds would only be getting thicker as the summer went on. But thankfully, that wouldn’t be her problem.

  In a day or two, she’d be back in the mountains, leaving her companion here in Orange County. That thought gave her heart a hard squeeze, but there was nothing she could do about it. It wasn’t as if she’d had a choice in any of this. If she’d been someone else, maybe she would have considered ignoring facts. But she couldn’t live a lie. She had to do the right thing—even if it felt wrong.

  Glancing into the rearview mirror, she looked at her companion and said, “You’re awfully quiet. Too much to think about to leave room for talking, hmm? I know how you feel.”

  Her own mind was spinning. Lilah had been dreading this trip to California for two weeks and now that it was here, she was still trying to think of a way out of the situation she found herself in. But no matter how she looked at it, Lilah was stuck. As was her friend in the backseat.

  If she were doing this on her turf, so to speak, she might feel a little more in control. Back in her small mountain town in Utah, she had friends. People she could count on to stand with her. Here, all she had were her own two feet and that sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach.

  Orange County, California, was only an hour-and-a-half flight from Lilah’s home, but it might as well have been on the other side of the world. She was walking into the unknown with no way out but through.

  By the time she parked, helped her friend out of the car and walked into the law office, Lilah’s stomach was swirling with nerves. The building was Victorian on the outside and a sweep of glass and chrome on the inside. It was unsettling, as if designed to keep clients off guard, and maybe that was the idea. The floors were a polished, high-gleam hardwood, but the walls were decorated with modern paintings consisting of splashes of bright color. The reception desk where a stern-faced, middle-aged woman sat sentry was a slab of glass atop shining steel legs. Even the banister gliding along the wood staircase was made up of steel spindles faced with a wall of glass. It was cold, sterile and just a little intimidating. Oh, she was now sincerely prepared to dislike the man she was there to see. Lilah stiffened her spine and approached the reception desk. “I’m Lilah Strong. I’m here to see Reed Hudson.”

  The woman looked from Lilah to her friend and back again. “Do you have an appointment?”

  “No. I’m here on behalf of his sister, Spring Hudson Bates,” Lilah said and watched a flicker of interest glitter in the woman’s eyes. “It’s important that I see him now.”

  “One moment.” The woman watched Lilah as she picked up a phone and pressed a single button. “Mr. Hudson, there’s a woman here to see you. She claims to have been sent by your sister Spring.”

  Claims? Lilah swallowed the spurt of impatience that jumped into her throat. It took another moment or two before the receptionist hung up and waved one hand at the staircase. “Mr. Hudson will see you. Up the stairs, first door on the left.”

  “Thank you.” Lilah and her companion walked away, but as she went, she felt the other woman’s curious gaze follow her.

  At the landing, Lilah paused to settle herself outside the heavy double doors. She took a breath, then turned the knob and walked inside.

  The outer office was small, but bright, with sunlight pouring through windows that overlooked the ocean. Lilah stepped inside and took a breath, pausing long enough to appreciate the elegant furnishings. The wood floors shone. In one corner, there was a healthy ficus tree in a silver pot. A pair of gray chairs separated by a black table sat against one wall.

  A young woman with short black hair and brown eyes sat at a sleek black desk and gave Lilah a friendly smile as she entered. “Hello. I’m Karen, Mr. Hudson’s executive assistant. You must be Ms. Strong. Mr. Hudson’s waiting for you.”

  She stood and walked to a pair of double doors. Opening them, she stepped back and Lilah steeled herself before she walked into the lion’s den.

  The man’s office was enormous—no doubt designed to impress and intimidate. Mission accomplished, she thought. A wall of glass behind his desk afforded a spectacular view of the ocean, and on her left, the glass wall continued, displaying a bird’s-eye view of Pacific Coast Highway and the crowds that cluttered the street and sidewalks.

  The wood floor shone here, too, with the slices of sunlight lying on it sparkling like diamonds. There were several expensive-looking rugs dotting the floor, and the furniture here was less chrome and more dark leather. Still didn’t seem to fit in a Victorian building, but it was less startling to the senses than the first-floor decor. But, Lilah told herself, she wasn’t here to critique the results of what some designer had done to the stately old building. Instead, she was here to face down the man now standing up behind his desk.

  “Who are you?” he demanded. “And what do you know about my sister Spring?”

  His voice was deep, rumbling around the room like thunder. He was tall—easily six feet three or four—with thick black hair expensively trimmed to look casual. He wore a black, pin-striped suit and a white dress shirt accented with a red power tie. His shoulders were broad, his jaw square, his eyes green, and as they focused on her, they didn’t look friendly.

  Well, she thought, that was fine, since she wasn’t feeling very friendly, either. He was as intimidating as the plush office, and far more attractive—which had nothing to do with anything, she reminded herself.

  Still, she was glad she’d taken care with her appearance before this meeting. At home, she went days without even bothering with makeup. Today, she wore her own version of a power suit. Black slacks, red shirt and short red jacket. Her black boots had a two-inch heel, adding to her five-foot-six-inch height. She was as prepared for this meeting as it was possible to be. Which wasn’t saying much.

  “I’m Lilah Strong.”

  “I was told who you are,” he said. “What I don’t know is why you’re here.”

  “Right.” She took a deep breath, then blew it out again. Deliberately striding across the floor in a quick march, she heard her heels click on the wood then soften on the rugs as she approached him. When she was so close she caught a whiff of his aftershave—a subtle scent that reminded her of the forests at home—she stopped. With his wide, black matte desk between them, she looked into his deep green eyes and said, “Spring was my friend. That’s why I’m here. She asked me to do something for her and I couldn’t say no. That’s the only reason I’m here.”

  “All right.”

  That deep voice seemed to reverberate inside her, leaving her more shaken than she wanted to admit. Why was he so gorgeous? Why did the wary look in his eyes seem sexy rather than irritating? And why was she letting an unwanted attraction scatter her thoughts?

  “I’m curious.” His gaze flicked briefly to Lilah’s friend before shifting back to her. “Do you usually bring your baby with you to meetings?”

  She lifted her chin and glanced down at the baby girl on her left hip. Here was the reason for leaving home, for facing down a man with ice in his eyes. If it had been up to her, Lilah never would have come. She wouldn’t be standing here in Reed Hudson’s office with a ball of cold lead in the pit of her stomach. But this wasn’t her choice and no matter how hard it
was, she would do as Spring had asked.

  Rosie slapped both hands together and squealed. Lilah’s answering smile faded as she turned her gaze back to the man watching her.

  “Rose isn’t my baby,” she said, with more than a twinge of regret as she met his gaze coolly. “She’s yours.”

  CHAPTER 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.