Maureen Child - Falling for King's Fortune / Seduction, Westmoreland Style - Falling for King's Fortune

“What do you think, sweetie? London? No,” she said as Mia shook her head, laughing. “You’re right. London in springtime, way too rainy. Okay, Paris then! We’ll go to the Louvre and I’ll show you all the beautiful paintings. Would you like that?”

Naturally, Mia didn’t understand the question, but she loved having her mom’s full attention, so she jumped up and down in her seat and babbled excitedly.

“Good! We’ll go on one of those dinner cruises, too, what do you think? We’ll see all the pretty lights of the city and get you some yummy French baby food?”

Mia giggled again and Casey paused just to listen. Was there any more wonderful sound than that deep-from-the-belly laugh her daughter had? Mia’s big brown eyes sparkled, her wisps of dark brown hair flew about her head in a soft halo and her chubby cheeks were rosy.

“What did I ever do without you?” Casey asked, suddenly filled with so much love, she could hardly stand it. Scooping the baby out of her chair, she cuddled her close, burying her face in the curve of Mia’s neck to inhale that soft scent that was so completely Mia.

Pulling back, Casey looked at her little girl and said wistfully, “I should have thanked your daddy. Whether or not he knows it, he gave me the most amazing gift ever.”

The doorbell rang and Casey, carrying Mia, walked out of her cramped, makeshift office, down the short hall and through the small, cluttered living room. Evidence of Mia’s presence in the house was everywhere. From the playpen tucked beneath the front window to the toys on the floor and the neatly folded clean clothes in the laundry basket perched on the love seat.

Casey shifted Mia higher on her hip and automatically leaned in to look through the peephole in the front door.

Jackson .

He looked different than he had the night before. He was wearing blue jeans today and a black T-shirt that molded itself to his broad chest. On the left breast pocket of the shirt, there was a stylized gold crown with the words King Jets beneath it. He looked more approachable today and therefore…more dangerous.

Instantly, Casey’s heartbeat raced and her mouth went dry. What was he doing here? How did he find her?

“How?” she whispered, answering her own foolish question. “You told him your name and where you lived. Of course he found you. Idiot.”

The doorbell rang again and Mia squealed.

“Shh…” Casey winced, and jiggled her daughter, hoping to keep her quiet.

“I can hear the baby,” Jackson called through the door.

The timbre of his voice resonated throughout Casey’s body. She tried to tell herself that the shivers it created was nothing more than nerves. But even she wasn’t buying it. Her body, despite what her mind would have preferred, was reacting to the man exactly as it had the first night they met.

Like a lit match set to dynamite.

“Open the door, Casey,” he said, voice just loud enough to carry.

“Why?” she called back, when she knew it was useless to pretend she wasn’t home. Her car was in the driveway and Mia was burbling loud enough to alert him.

“I want to talk to you.”

“We said everything we had to say last night.”

“You might have,” he acknowledged, “but I haven’t even started yet.”

She chanced another look through the peephole and this time, met his stare directly. He’d bent down and was staring right back at her as if he could see her, as well.

Those dark brown eyes were filled with a quiet determination and Casey knew he wouldn’t be leaving until she’d heard him out. Her shoulders slumped in defeat before straightening again with a touch of defiance. He wanted to talk? Fine. She’d let him say his piece, then they could go their separate ways.

“Your daddy’s awful pushy,” she whispered as she flipped the dead bolt lock and slowly opened the door.

“I heard that, too.” One of Jackson’s dark eyebrows arched as he gave her a cool look just before he stepped past her into the house.

Casey closed the door and locked it, then turned around to look at him. Jackson King standing in the middle of her living room somehow dwarfed her whole house.

True, the older bungalow was tiny anyway, but it had always seemed more than sufficient for her and Mia. Now though, with the strength of Jackson’s presence, the house seemed to shrink substantially in size.

His gaze was on hers and she felt the heat of that stare burn right into her. His dark hair was windblown, his jaw was clenched tight and as he folded his arms across his chest and braced his feet wide apart in what looked like a battle stance, she felt a zip of something hot and undeniable.

How could she possibly keep reacting sexually to a man she should be avoiding? And how could she keep him from noticing?

“I didn’t expect to see you again,” she said, walking past him, and silently cursing the fact that since she had to move sideways to do it, her breasts brushed against his chest. Did he just move in even closer?

“Then that just proves you don’t know me as well as you think.” His voice was whiskey rough and pitched low enough to send ripples of awareness skittering along Casey’s spine.

Darn it.

Determined to at least behave as if she wasn’t thrown for a loop by his unannounced visit, Casey headed for an overstuffed chair near Mia’s playpen. Once she was seated, she turned Mia around to sit on her lap and looked up at Jackson. He seemed to tower over her. She didn’t really remember him being this tall. This intimidating.

Glancing around the room, he spotted a low hassock, gave it a shove with the toe of a scuffed-up cowboy boot and when it was positioned in front of her, he sat down on it. Elbows braced on his knees, he turned the full force of his dark gaze on her and Casey held her breath for a slow count of ten before asking, “Why are you here, Jackson?”

“To talk.”

“About?”

“Mia.”

She stiffened.

His gaze locked on hers, he said, “I know that neither one of us was expecting this.”

She nodded, since her throat was suddenly so tight, she didn’t think she’d be able to squeeze out a single word. Did he have to sit so closely? Did he have to smell so good? Did he have to have a voice that sounded like hot nights and silk sheets?

“So,” he said, his tone pleasant, though his eyes were dark and unreadable. “Since we find ourselves in a unique position, I’ve got a unique solution to the situation.”

She found her voice. It was scratchy and she was forced to clear her throat, but she managed. “I didn’t realize we required a ‘solution’.”

“Then you were wrong again,” he said and gave her a brief half smile.

“Jackson…”

“You’ve lived here three years, right?”

The statement was so far out of the blue, she only blinked at him for a second or two. “How do you know that?”

“You rent it.”

She shifted, lifted her chin and said, “Did you investigate me or something?”

“Why wouldn’t I? You show up claiming I’m the father of your child, it only makes sense to check you out.”

“I can’t believe this.” Nerves jumped inside her and Casey suddenly felt as though she couldn’t draw enough air into her lungs. She felt trapped in the little house she’d always loved so much.

“Since you rent, it’ll make things easier all the way around.” He nodded thoughtfully, glanced at the cramped quarters and she could guess exactly what he was thinking. He came from big, towering piles of money. He owned a mansion he rarely used and kept hotel suites ready “just in case.” He had no idea what life for real people was like and she was sure he was mentally dismissing the home she’d made for Mia and herself.