The Ceo's Surprise Family

She swung the door wide. “Hell...’’

Bug-eyed, she stared at Jethro Calder.

“What? How?”

His navy eyes swept over her darkening to near black by the time his gaze met hers. Who knew black could show such heat? He stepped forward, crowding her.

Instinctively she backed away.

He kept coming and she kept retreating until he cleared the threshold. He closed the door behind him.

“Are you crazy?” he demanded. “You don’t answer the door without knowing who’s on the other side.” His gaze made another journey over her as he continued to stalk her. “Especially dressed like that.

“How are you here?” She meant it as an accusation. It came out in a whisper as she continued to dodge his pursuit. She hit a chair and sidestepped.

“Does it matter?” He caught her elbow when she tripped over the ottoman and nearly landed on her rump. “You wanted me and, sunshine, you’ve got me.” Lifting her to her toes, he lowered his head and slanted his lips over hers.

Her hands landed on his chest ready to push him away. But oh, my...

For all his ferocity, when his mouth took hers, there was no anger, no punishing assault on her senses, nothing but pure passion, undiluted desire. The soft pressure of his lips lured her into opening to him.

Oh, he took, with a seductive demand that had her lifting farther onto her toes and looping her arms around his neck. Her mind was lost, transferring the cadence of his touch to notes in her head. Grip, glide, soft, firm, thrust, nip—the heat built in body and melody to a place she’d never been before.

He whispered erotic threats and words were added to the song in her head.

As she floated on sensation, he became her rock, hard, solid, grounded. His arms were a haven of safety and the orchestrators of the sensation and rhythm surging through her.

She wanted more. Now. More of his taste, more of his touch, more of his heat. More.

And then her knees hit up against something and she sat. She blinked and her bedroom came into focus. He’d moved them down the hall and into her room without her even noticing they were moving.

Eyes liquid with arousal, he watched her as he unbuttoned his shirt. He’d lost his jacket somewhere along the trek to the bedroom.

And OMG, she’d lost her nightgown. She sat in front of him in nothing more than a rosy blush of need.

Sanity came rushing back with a roar.

“Stop. Whoa.” Grabbing the edge of her sunny yellow comforter, she wrapped it around herself. She wasn’t modest, a dancer couldn’t afford the luxury, but she felt too exposed under his ravenous regard. “I’m sorry, but this is not going to happen.”

His fingers froze on the last connected button. “Excuse me?” Dark brows lowered in a fierce scowl.

Intimidating, much? Oh, yeah.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. And she meant it. He’d just lit her up like a torch in every way imaginable, body, mind, soul. And he couldn’t be more off-limits if he were the Pope. “This isn’t what I intended when I sought you out.”

If anything the scowl deepened. “Explain.”

The demand was nearly a growl. It occurred to her she should be afraid, but she wasn’t. She’d been in his arms, felt his body resonate with hers. He’d never hurt a woman. Not physically anyway. He had too much control. But there were worse ways he could make her pay. Her mind raced. This needed to be handled carefully.

Feeling at a disadvantage, she inched to the side and stood up. He stepped back giving her some room. She breathed in relief. “I’d prefer to get dressed for this conversation if you don’t mind.”

It wasn’t a question and still he looked ready to protest, a signal to her that he was in charge of what happened here. Never mind it was her apartment. Clearly the man was used to being in command wherever he went. Finally, he gave a brief nod and left the room.

Okay, in no way did his silence reassure her. Anger defined the rigid line of his shoulders as he strode away.

“There’s wine in the refrigerator and glasses in the cupboard to the right,” she called out, then bit her lip. This wasn’t a date, but she knew if he left, she’d lose all chance of ever talking to him.

Ready or not the time had come to plead her case.

She grabbed clothes from the dresser and hurried into them, soft gray sweats and a baby-blue sweater cropped at the waist. In the bathroom she tamed her hair into a ponytail and noticed the pants clung to the curves of her butt and the sweater played peekaboo with her belly button. Dang. Time didn’t allow for another change.

Tugging at the hem of the sweater she went to wrangle the shark in her living room.

He leaned against the counter of her kitchen island, sipping a glass of wine. His dark gaze ran over her making her senses tingle.

“You have five minutes,” he stated in that near growl that just added to his effect on her body.

Ignoring the urges she could never act on, she helped herself to some wine. She perched on one of the bar stools at the island and took a sip.

“Four minutes. Don’t try my patience, Ms. Malone.”

“I really wanted to do this differently. I was going to come by your office—” She slanted him a wry glance and reached for a picture frame at the end of the counter. Handing it to him, she said softly, “Alliyah had a daughter. Her name is Jasmine. She’s twenty-three-months-old.”

He refused to accept the picture, didn’t even glance at it. “What does that have to do with me?”

“You said I targeted you. This is why. In the article I read about Pinnacle, there was a picture included. You and the other executives were holding up the award. I saw your birthmark.”

One dark brow lifted. “You targeted me because of my birthmark?”

So cool, so unaffected when her whole life weighed in the balance.

“Yes.” She hesitated, prayed this was the right decision, that she wasn’t risking losing Jazi to the one person Lexi could never get her back from. “Because Jasmine has the same birthmark.”

Okay, she had Jethro’s attention. Truthfully, she’d had his attention from the moment she walked into The Beacon in that snug little black dress and he hoped she’d be his date. But never in his wildest imaginings had he considered the night would end up here. He’d been suspicious of her, enough to follow her here.

The sight of her draped in damp silk, white teeth biting her lush lower lip, had sidetracked him for an irrational moment. A hot, blow-his-mind moment that should never have happened. The lack of discipline was in no small part responsible for his...mood.

No one ever accused him of being dense. She meant to suggest Jasmine was his daughter. And he dealt with numbers every day, so he could do the math. The timing fit. But not the circumstances. He never had unprotected sex, never.

“Coincidence,” he stated.

She groaned and shook her head. “You don’t strike me as a man big on coincidence.”

She wasn’t wrong. But he didn’t budge. No way was she laying this on him. Family wasn’t in his future. In order to survive, he’d had to shut down his emotions. It was a lesson too well learned to change. Plus, he’d force no one to share his secret shame. All in all he sucked at relationships, lacked the skill set as one woman told him. When he hit thirty, he quit trying. He’d found Excursions about a year later.

So no, no family for him. And he was fine with that. He’d come to terms with the notion long ago, had made it clear to all who knew him. Jethro wasn’t prepared for that to change now.

Certainly not on the whim of a woman he barely knew. Even if she turned him so upside down he’d practically jumped her as soon as he’d walked inside the door. What had he been thinking?