Charlotte Maclay - Expecting at Christmas

1) For my brother Roberto, a new tow truck for his business

2) My brother Marco could sure use some new pizza pans to replace the banged-up ones he uses at his restaurant

3) Nothing pleases dear Aunt Louisa more than skeins of tatting yam, so I’d wish for a basket of yarn for her that magically would never get empty

4) Now I know my cousin Brenna would love a mini second honeymoon with her husband....

5) And as for me, I don’t want much for Christmas—but with all my heart I wish for a healthy baby with ten fingers, ten toes and an adorable smile. That would do me just fine.

Of course, if I were being totally honest, I’d want a daddy for my baby—and a husband for me. But I don’t suppose I’d ever find one in your pack. Still, there’s no harm in asking....

Merry Christmas.

Love,

Loretta Santana

Chapter One

Getting a job was always difficult. Landing one when you were eight months pregnant counted as a miracle.

Loretta Santana smoothed her hair back as she heard her new employer’s car cross the narrow wooden bridge at the bottom of Topanga Canyon Road and navigate the circular drive in front of his house.

She’d never actually been a butler before, though she’d taken an accelerated class at the Westside Butler Academy just last week in order to qualify for this position. And, true, her black suit, which she wore with a neat little bow tie, might have been a bit odd to order in a maternity size. But she was determined she’d keep this job until she became eligible for insurance benefits with the temporary agency that had hired her. She only needed one hundred and twenty more hours to her credit—three weeks—and she could sign up. Her baby wasn’t due for another four weeks and one day, the week after Christmas.

Instinctively she slid her hand across her distended belly. Both she and Isabella’s baby would need the medical benefits.

Anxiety had her gnawing at her lower lip as she opened the front door, standing back so Griffin Jones wouldn’t get a full-length look at her right off. Her nerves were certainly frazzled. When she got past this hurdle, she’d have to take a megadose of vitamin E to stabilize her ions and get her yin and yang back in balance.

With the easy strides of an athlete, Griffin mounted the steps two at a time. His suit jacket hung open and his power tie was loose around his collar. He came to an abrupt halt at the front door.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled. A wicked smile curled amazingly sensual lips. “What have we got here?”

“Loretta Santana, sir. Your temporary butler.”

He glanced past her into the rustic entry with its warm wood paneling and subdued lighting. “What did you do with Rodgers, sweetheart?”

“I believe he’s en route to London, sir.”

“Oh, I forgot that he had some sort of a family crisis back home.” Frowning, he cocked his head to the right, causing a lock of tobacco-brown hair to slide across his forehead at a rakish angle. “And you’re somebody’s idea of a joke butler?”

She flushed. “No, sir. I’m fully qualified to—”

“I’ll just bet you are.” He stepped across the threshold, his gaze raking over her with swift, masculine interest until it landed right smack on her midsection. “My God, you’re pregnant!” He choked and began coughing.

“Oh, you poor thing. You must have a terrible cold.” Automatically she placed the back of her hand to his forehead. “A fever, too. You’d better come inside. I’ll brew you a nice herbal toddy and give you some of my rejuvenative hydration pills. You’ll be right as rain in no time, sir.” Hooking her arm through his, Loretta tried to hustle him toward the master bedroom where he could get the rest he obviously needed—and forget he had a pregnant butler working for him. “Winter colds can be so dreadful. Would you like me to draw a nice hot bath for you, sir? Or can you manage for yourself?”

He put on the brakes. “I don’t have a cold, just a little sore throat, and I don’t appreciate my buddies playing a practical joke on me. They know damn well I wouldn’t sleep with a pregnant woman.”

Shock drove her back against the nearest wall. “Sleep? I wouldn‘t—That’s not why—The agency wouldn’t—” Good grief, what had she gotten herself into?

“That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? Ol’ Brainerd set you up, didn’t he? Thought it would be funny to—”

“The employment agency sent me. I needed the job. They didn’t say you’d try to ravish me.”

“I’m not going to do any such—”

Without waiting for his explanation, she made a dash for the kitchen and the connecting servants’ quarters. She’d lock herself in, call the police—

“Wait! What the hell—”

She didn’t stop. But given her portly figure, her fastest run was more like a slow waddle. He caught up with her at the butcher-block island counter in the kitchen and snared her by the arm.

“Don’t hurt the baby. Please don’t—”

“For God’s sake, I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to know what’s going on.”

Her chin trembled. He was a really big man, his shoulders broad beneath his suit jacket, and his penetrating eyes so light a shade of blue they flashed like swords of silver. Loretta would not want to sit across a negotiating table from Griffin Jones. He would intimidate the staunchest foe.

She wasn’t feeling very staunch at the moment

“Look, don’t cry,” he pleaded, loosening his grip on her arm. “I can’t stand a weepy woman.”

“I’m not weepy.” She sniffed.

“Are you saying the employment agency sent you?”

She nodded.

“You sure you didn’t just happen to see the article in Inside Business about me being one of the ten top eligible bachelors, and you thought you’d claim I was your baby’s father—”

“I’d never do such a thing,” she gasped. “Isabella never would have wanted to have your baby.”

He blinked. “Who’s Isabella? I thought your name was Lor—”

“She’s my aunt, or she was. My mother’s youngest sister. I’m having her baby.”

With a shake of his head, Griffin stepped back. Maybe he did have a fever, after all. This woman wasn’t making any sense. “Where’s your husband?”

“I don’t exactly have a husband.”

“Okay, then, your boyfriend.”

“I don’t exactly have one of those, either, not since I got pregnant.”

“You figured you’d get pregnant and your boyfriend would have to marry you, huh?” A woman had tried to do that to Griffin not so long ago. He’d been willing to do the right thing. He’d had to. The death of Griffin’s mother in childbirth had always haunted him. He’d been nagging his parents for a baby brother, and when it turned out she was pregnant with a girl, he hadn’t wanted her. Then, suddenly, his mother was gone and so was his sister. He’d felt guilty ever since and somehow responsible.

And so years later he’d naturally felt responsible for the woman he’d slept with, Amanda Cook—until he discovered she wasn’t pregnant at all. She was nothing more than a gold digger anxious to get her hands on the substantial fortune he’d earned running one of the biggest chains of electronic stores in the country. He wouldn’t fall for a trick like that again anytime soon; he’d sworn off relationships that even hinted at commitment.

“Oh, no, this isn’t Rudy’s baby. It’s Wayne’s.”

Wayne? She definitely had an active love life, more than Griffin had managed lately. “So why didn’t he marry you?”

“He was married to Isabella.”

Now he could see exactly what had happened. “So Isabella caught you playing around with her husband.”

“No, of course not.” She looked honestly offended he’d suggested that possibility. “I wouldn’t do a thing like that. I loved Wayne just like he was my blood uncle.”