The Baby Contract (The Billionaire Bachelor Series) (2 page)

“My uncle was concerned about the Whitmore empire, and he had an open ear to my opinions. His own son was brought into this world as an heir. If my cousin can’t fulfill a similar obligation then Uncle Liam had to find another option. Which is me. Things will work out.”

Richard chuckled. “The old man had but one family and that’s his corporation. Good job, Davidson.”

“I assume you’ll let Mr. Kay in on the good news?”

“Yes, Martin will be pleased to hear it. We’ve been on pins and needles. Remember, we are counting on this acquisition, Davidson. We’ve already put a small fortune toward it. If you fail us, things might turn out in a bad way on your end. Very bad.”

Spencer bit his tongue; he’d heard the threats already. “We have nothing to worry about.”

“What do you have for me this week?” Richard said.

“Sales figures for Whitmore. We’ll be acquiring a small place called Gingerbay. Minor manufacturing and not really KayBona’s cup of tea. My uncle had a soft spot for mom-and-pop places, which my cousin inherited it seems. I’ll upload those figures and what Liam is offering for Gingerbay in case you’re interested. We’ll also be looking into Harbor Inc., which I do think you might want to check out. I’ll let you know what Liam puts together for it when it comes available.”

Richard chuckled. “Has Liam shown any suspicions about how we keep grabbing companies out from under him?”

“Not a one. He’s got business savvy but isn’t nearly as clever as Uncle Liam.”

Spencer used his cellphone and a personal email account to send the files to Richard. He wasn’t stupid enough to use company email—God forbid he got caught passing private company information to a competitor.

The two men wrapped up the call. Afterward, Spencer pulled out a bottle of scotch from his desk drawer and poured a healthy dose into his glass. A holiday gift from his cousin last year, Spencer mused.

He held up his glass for a solo toast. “To a brighter future. For me, at least. Best of luck to you, cousin, and sorry for your loss. Both the corporation and your old man.”

He sipped the strong liquor. Unfortunately, Spencer had racked up a fair amount of gambling debt, enough that if his wife found out she’d divorce him. Paying hefty alimony and child support payments on top of his bookies didn’t appeal to him in the least. It’d be cheaper to keep her and the kids in house, or he risked losing everything he’d worked hard for.

Once he sold off Whitmore Incorporated, he’d have the damn bookies off his back. He’d buy a place on the East Coast and start over. He hadn’t talked it over with his wife, but he doubted she’d object since she was a native New Englander.

He stared at the amber liquid in his glass, considering the options Liam faced. His temper tantrum after meeting with the attorney hadn’t surprised him. Liam had always been quick fire with his anger. An overbearing and overindulged kid who’d grown into an overbearing and overindulged man.

They’d never gotten along. The reason Spencer had become CFO for Whitmore was purely Whitmore senior’s idea. He’d wanted to keep the corporation as close to the family as possible. Liam III’s mother and his mother were sisters, and while Liam III had initially resisted involvement in the corporation, Spencer had worked hard to be included.

Spencer snorted. His cousin was a selfish man, and the last person who should have children. He was too much like his old man to put another before himself. Then again, he’d be desperate to keep his company. The shadow of doubt hung over Spencer’s plans, but he refused to consider the negative. He’d grasped his last straw, and come hell or high water he’d make sure he got his hands on Whitmore.

His cellphone buzzed and he checked his text messages.

You need to call me. I have something important to tell you.

Spencer frowned and hit
delete
. The last thing he needed was some woman clinging to his coattails. A very brief affair had turned into a royal pain in the ass. He finished off his drink and stood, stretching his tight muscles. He had his son’s soccer game tonight, and if he was late again, his wife would string him up. Another pain in the ass, but this one he had to deal with.

Chapter 2

“The chest pains were brought on by stress.”

Abigail Haden toyed with the charm on her necklace, listening to her brother’s monotone voice. He sounded exhausted.

“So he’s okay?” she asked, needing a double dose of reassurance.

“For now. Things have been rough the past few days. I have to go, sis, the doctor needs to talk with me. Call after you get off work.”

The call disconnected. Abby leaned against the car seat, blowing out a breath of air. Tension tightened the muscles in her neck and shoulders, making them ache. The Double H ranch was suffering thanks to the drought and modern-day cattle rustlers. Recently they’d been targeting harder hit ranchers.

On top of that, her father and brother had to let go of most of the help, and it’d become too much work for her aging father. He’d suffered multiple health scares the past year, including being diagnosed with diabetes. It broke her heart that the family’s livelihood stood on its last leg and there was nothing she could do to help. Her nursing career paid her bills, and she
did
have savings, but neither her brother nor father would accept a dime from her.

Abby grabbed her stuff and stepped out of her car. The scorching Austin sun and heat slammed into her. Soon winter would break the summer cycle, and she looked forward to the cooler weather. She strode up the drive. Her patient opened the front door, a kind smile on her face.

“Hello, dear,” Caroline said in greeting, letting Abby inside. “Something the matter?”

“Hi, Caroline. Good to see you. Nothing’s wrong, just a heat headache.” Real affection swelled in her heart for the elderly woman, her favorite home healthcare patient.

They settled inside her patient’s residence, and Abby did a check of her vitals. She then asked a few needed questions for her chart and scribbled the answers down. “Well, everything looks good, and it seems your new meds are doing the trick. I’m pretty sure you’re healthier than me at this point.”

Caroline Whitmore’s musical laughter filled the room. She patted Abby’s arm. “I wouldn’t say that, dear, but thank you.”

Caroline’s youthful eyes belied her age of seventy-five. The woman always had a bright smile, and a cheerful story to share with a dose of southern charm. And some of the best made-from-scratch lemonade in Texas. Abby took a quick break to savor a glassful, appreciating its icy temperature.

Her patient had finally regained her strength after ovarian cancer. She’d had a hysterectomy and months of chemotherapy. Caroline proved she was a fighter, despite her age, having gone into remission faster than the doctors predicted. They’d labeled it a miracle, and honestly, so did Abby. She admired Caroline’s strength, tenacity, and spirit. Abby always said a quick prayer of thanks before bed that Caroline was on the upswing.

Caroline excused herself to the bathroom. Abby resisted the urge to help as she watched her slow progress with a walker down the hall. Her patient was capable and didn’t need her nurse hovering over her every move.

She turned her gaze to the room. Paintings and pottery done by Caroline herself decorated the space. Their rich, earthy colors reflected Austin’s history and landscape as well as the talent of the artist. Her attention settled onto the focal point of the room’s artwork—and it happened to be Abby’s favorite piece. A large painting of a street-level view of Austin’s yearly Pecan Street Festival. It was done in an impressionistic style, and she admired the strong strokes of yellow, blue, and red, representing angles of sunlight and shade. Slashes of black marked the passing of people on a slate-gray street.

Interestingly, the artist wasn’t Caroline, but her son Liam. Caroline had told her he’d painted it at twenty years of age. She knew little of Liam outside of newscasts and gossip she generally ignored. Still it seemed odd a man like him was capable of such artistic expression. One would assume heading a massive conglomerate would require a whole different set of skills.

The painting had always drawn Abby’s greedy eyes in its uninhibited use of a paintbrush. Expert and exquisite in every detail, passion had created the piece. A young man in control of his hands yet lost to his desire to create. Sensual, dramatic, and almost erotic.

Abby closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Behind her closed eyelids an image of Liam as she’d last seen him popped up. He’d dropped by to see his mother while Abby was still with her. Seeing the billionaire outside of a camera lens proved startling. Taller than she’d anticipated but with the commanding presence she’d expected. He’d been genial toward Abby, his gaze giving her a quick perusal before dismissing her. While he’d dropped a quick kiss to his mother’s cheek, Abby had indulged in a bit of feminine approval of his masculinity. Then she’d caught herself and scolded her wayward hormones.

A tabloid had gotten a photo of him shirtless on a yacht during the summer. He kept in shape, no doubt about it. The solid muscle of a man who worked his body outside of the weight room. Muscle which was familiar with use and intended to be functional for whichever sport created them. Not simply fashionable as an expression of virility. A physique that hinted endurance for long hours of—

“Miss Haden?”

Abby gasped and whirled toward the front door. Glaring sunshine outlined a tall, dark shape in the open doorway. She blinked then squinted, her eyes adjusting before her face flushed hot to her ears. “Oh, uh, Mr. Whitmore,” she croaked out. “Hi.”

As if manifested from her errant thoughts, Liam Whitmore stepped into the home and closed the door behind him. He eyed her with curiosity, glanced to his painting then back to her.

“I-I like this painting,” Abby stuttered, feeling the need to explain. She felt sure her meandering daydreams of his sexual prowess were written all over her face. Not that he shouldn’t be used to women swooning over him, she reminded herself. That straightened her backbone, and she lifted her chin. “Your mother is in the restroom.”

He stepped closer, and she took an involuntary step backward. He clasped his hands behind his back and squared his broad shoulders toward her. She lifted her chin higher to look into his face. He towered over her. No surprise in those genetics, his mother was a good six inches taller than her too.

“How are you, Miss Haden?” His gaze drifted over her face, a penetrating search as if he were looking for something specific. She realized he had his mother’s eyes. Though they appeared a very dark brown, in the light they’d reveal themselves to be dark blue. Unlike Caroline’s, they held no hint of gentleness, only sharp scrutiny. His gaze drifted to the base of her neck, where she toyed with her necklace.

“I’m well.” She shifted beneath his eyes, but held her ground. “And you?” She’d read his father had passed away, though asking him of it seemed too personal.

“I’m doing well, thank you. Miss Haden, I—”

“My boy, how are you?” Caroline interrupted. Her eyes shone with adoration for her only child as she made her way toward them.

A visible change washed over Liam, his expression turning to boyish happiness as he walked to her. He laid a hand on her shoulder, keeping pace with her as she made it to her favorite chair. Seeing the obvious affection he had for his mother left Abby with a soft spot inside, she’d seen it in him before. Liam didn’t strike her as someone who’d display such depth of emotion—at least not outside of a board room while stealing someone’s company. She imagined he fed off of that.

She turned away and started collecting her supplies while they chatted.

“I’m sorry for interrupting, but if there isn’t anything else, Caroline, I’ll leave you two to your afternoon,” Abby said, clutching her bag and medical chart close.

Caroline shook her head and smiled. Abby nodded to her patient then turned toward the front door.

“Miss Haden, can I speak with you for a moment?” Liam asked.

Abby looked at him in surprise. “Um, sure, yeah.” She inwardly cursed her ability to blush brightly at the drop of a hat. “Excuse me,” she said to Caroline as she followed Liam to the kitchen, out of earshot.

Quickly deciding he wanted information on his mother’s progress, she began filling him in. “Mr. Whitmore, I want to assure you Caroline’s health is improving rapidly. The new medication her doctor prescribed is doing wonders,” Abby stammered, annoyed with the breathlessness of her voice. She took a deep, settling breath. “She’s a fighter, and I personally believe she’ll make a full recovery.”

Liam shoved his hands in the pockets of his black slacks, his gaze boring into her, his lips turned down into a slight frown. His eyes held the look of a brewing storm. Her skin burned under his intense examination, and she shifted nervously, hugging the medical chart and her bag to her chest. Feeling as if she were about to be reprimanded, she searched her mind for any reason why. She stubbornly held his gaze.

He broke his penetrating stare, moving it out the window over the sink. Abby deflated, and studied his profile. Sharp cheekbones, smoothly shaven skin, an aquiline nose which enhanced his regal presence, firm lips—he could’ve been created from marble. A statue expertly carved then brought to life by some magic long ago. But beneath his eyes, dark shadows of exhaustion marred his olive complexion, destroying the overall effect and making him indeed human.

She chewed the inside of her cheek, willing her heart rate to slow down.

“I’m happy to hear your prognosis, but I’ve already spoken with her oncologist. She’s filled me in.” He rocked back on his heels and let out a breath. “You’re single, isn’t that right, Miss Haden? My mother speaks highly of you and mentioned that in passing.”

Abby’s mouth fell open. Could it be possible that Mr. Liam Whitmore III, the very rich and most coveted bachelor in Austin, Texas, wanted to ask her out on a date? An image of the woman he was rumored to be dating—the tall, brunette, and doctor-enhanced—Charity Belmont, popped to mind. Charity was the complete opposite of Abby in every way, both physically and in social standing.