Chapter Two
Finn watched Jessa Talbot read over the safety brochures attached to the infant car seats. Her scent had been damn-near crippling since she’d closed herself in his office. He’d hoped the dumpy, aging redhead in accounting had been Jessa Talbot. She definitely wasn’t. His wolf was thrilled—and on the verge of taking control. Just his luck.
A distraction. A dangerous distraction.
He would never have hired this woman for that very reason.
It didn’t matter how impressive her résumé was. Or how agreeable she was. She was a no-go zone. He couldn’t afford to employ people who threatened his control. And something about her had very definitely put his wolf on high-alert.
Her scent didn’t help. She smelled like heaven. Sweet. Feminine. Something that needed protection—from someone like him.
It didn’t matter. Complicated or not, she was all he had. He needed her. That trumped everything else. Including the urge to push her into his bed and bury himself inside her. He wasn’t an animal, no matter what the fuck the wolf thought. She was the person he—they—needed. Knowledge that eased some of the worry crushing him since Hollis’s call.
A child was involved now. His son.
Hollis’s warning still rang in his ears. “When they find out about him, he’s in danger. Real danger. We all are.”
“This is the one,” Jessa said, patting the large, navy-blue monstrosity. “Best crash test ratings.” She winced at the price tag. “It’s a little pricey.”
He reached for the tag, his fingers brushing hers. He bit back a hiss, glad she withdrew her hand so quickly. This was going to be difficult. Drowning in her scent was bad enough. But the thrill of awareness—almost recognition—touching her caused was something else. He’d have to be more careful. He focused on the now-bent tag he held, glanced at the price, then her. “Miss Talbot. You’re buying for me now. This is not pricey.”
She pressed her lips together.
“What?” he asked. Her lips were full and, undoubtedly, soft.
“Nothing,” she argued.
“Say it,” he pushed, enjoying the play of emotion on her face. She was very expressive.
“For the real world, this is pricey, Mr. Dean.” She nodded at the car seat, smiling.
“Well, you’re living in my world now,” he said, amused—and irritated. She had no idea what that statement truly meant. His world was undoubtedly more like one of Jessa Talbot’s nightmares. He needed to remember that where she was concerned.
He left her to check out then headed back to the car. Restlessness gripped him. Anger. Frustration. Impatience. He’d been careful. His life was a well-oiled, carefully constructed machine, with minimal to no hiccups. Every decision was analyzed, every outcome considered. Everything he did was premeditated, ensuring his secret was kept. No one would ever know what he was—what he’d done to his friends.
Hell, the only risks he’d taken the last ten years had been in business.
His personal life left no room for risks. No complications. No entanglements. No commitments. If he was attracted to a woman, he made sure they understood that and the inevitable outcome. Few turned him down. He’d met Cara four months ago; she’d been no different. They’d had a great week, lots of sex—all protected—and parted ways. And yet, somehow, she still ended up pregnant with his baby.
He was a father.
He had a baby. A son.
A fucking ticking time bomb.
The five of them had sworn this infection, as Hollis liked to call it, would end with them. Hollis. Dante. Anders. Malachi. And him. They had no way of predicting what their offspring would be, so kids, families, were off the table. None of them wanted anyone else getting hurt…
Anders would give him shit, but he’d laugh it off.
Dante’s expression would say it all. It’d be hard to look him in the eye for a while.
Hollis was disappointed. But the man was a scientist first, and there was no denying he was excited to see Finnegan Dean’s latest creation.
But Malachi. Mal hadn’t said one word to him in nine years. This wouldn’t change much. Unless Mal decided to come kick his ass. Finn wouldn’t even fight back.
They needed to know. They had a right to know. This baby would impact them all.
As much as he valued his independence, he’d never felt so alone. He’d fucked up big. Again. Hollis was his answer man, and he didn’t have any. Only time would tell.
How much time was another question.
But for now, this baby needed to be kept safe. Away from the world. Away from those that would see his existence as a threat. From those that would hunt him.
That’s why he would put up with Jessa.
Why did her presence make his other side fight to take over? Some haywire instinct wanted her close—even though keeping her at arm’s length was the right choice. She was the ultimate temptation for a man like him, and he’d just invited her home.
Fuck it.
Six weeks. He could do this. He would do this. He frowned. Temptation aside, instinct told him he could trust her. He’d have to hold on to that and hope the odd reaction his wolf was having would fade. Either way, when time was up, he’d find a place for her. One that kept her far from him. He had a London office, which might be the best option.
“Thomas needs to install it,” Jessa was saying to him.
Who the hell was Thomas? He’d been blindly staring at his phone, so lost in his thoughts he’d missed her arrival. A store clerk stood holding the enormous car seat that would carry his baby son home. His name badge read Thomas.
He’d been pacing, currently he was blocking the car door. He moved without a word, watching as the young man climbed in and walked Jessa through the safety features and how to ensure the seat was secure. She stooped, leaning in to see and hear. The view of her delectable backside snagged Finn’s full attention.
The wolf wasn’t the only one appreciating her lush hips, trim thighs, sculpted calves, all showcased by her fitted pencil skirt and heels. He closed his eyes, the thump of her heartbeat echoing in his ears. He listened, the primal thrill of connection sending his blood south and making him shove his hands in his pockets. He was rock hard, the zipper of his pants uncomfortable.
Jessa was off-limits. She had to be. For her safety.
She probably already had some adoring boyfriend that sent her flowers, remembered her birthdays, and enjoyed snuggling on the couch and watching movies with her. A normal guy, without full-moon phobias and the tendency to rip people to bits. Lucky bastard.
She stepped back, her heel catching in the sidewalk crack, and tipped backward. He moved, catching her. The crush of her curves against his straining erection had him biting off a curse. His hands tightened on her arms, ensuring she was safe. He held her, blindsided by the surge of ownership that tore through him. Let her go, he demanded of his wolf. He released her, sidestepping around her as the clerk climbed out of the car.
He avoided her stare, grappling with the rush still coursing through his body. What the fuck was that? He didn’t know. He didn’t want to know. Ignoring her, ignoring this, was the right choice.
“That should do it. If you have questions, you can call me.” Thomas’s tone was a little too friendly for Finn’s liking. Clearly, Thomas wasn’t immune to Jessa’s charms. And he had no problem being obvious about it, either. “And if I can help you with anything else, you know where to find me. Anytime.”
Finn shot the young man a look. “We need to go,” he said.
“Yes, of course,” she agreed, hurrying around to get into the car.
Get a fucking grip. This was not the time to get territorial. He rested his head on the seat back until the roaring pulse in his veins eased. Only then did he risk glancing at her. If he wasn’t careful, she’d walk, money or not, which was something he couldn’t risk. He needed to keep his shit together. If he was lucky, she’d never learn what he or his son were. Jessa Talbot was an essential employee—nothing more. She seemed to be inventorying the contents of the large bag at her feet. His eyes traveled over her profile, the curve of her nose, the length of her neck. A beautiful essential employee. And her pulse, her breathing… Was she aware of him? Or was she simply anxious from all the changes the last thirty minutes had delivered? Dammit. “Supplies?” he asked, breaking the silence.
“I tried to be quick. Diapers,” she said, peering into the bag. “And wipes. Some bottles, infant formula, a few gowns and blankets. This won’t last long.”
“I imagine you could call Thomas and he would deliver?” he asked, sounding far too condescending.
She turned, regarding him with bright green eyes. “Probably.”
“Good.” He cleared his throat and pulled his phone from his pocket. “Make a list, call him, and have it delivered.” He answered emails, checked stocks, anything to prevent staring at her.
The rest of the drive was silent. The closer they got to the hospital, the thicker the tension became. He wasn’t angry; there was no reason to be angry. He was on edge because of the whole situation. Not because he couldn’t have a normal life. Be a normal man. Have a normal relationship. He understood those things, accepted them. But right now, the weight of shit he shouldered seemed heavier than usual. Unease knotted his stomach.
He was hyperaware of his surroundings as they entered the hospital. The heat and crush of people. The myriad hum of voices and machines. The lingering smell of blood and bleach. He took it all in, every sense on high alert, braced, ready. By the time they climbed onto the elevator, his heart was thundering.
“Are you all right?” Jessa asked. Her eyes radiated concern—true sympathy. The gentle pressure of her hand on his arm was oddly soothing, for him and the beast inside. He wanted to draw her closer, touch her. He didn’t. He stared at her hand and drew in a deep breath. “I think so.”
She squeezed lightly, then seemed to realize she was touching him. She lifted her hand and smiled. “My aunt used to say life only gives us what we can handle.”
“I’m not sure I agree. I’m not handling this, you are.” Her aunt had no idea. His attention wandered to her throat, the slight thrum of her pulse. He closed his eyes, letting her even heartbeat steady him, her scent fill him.
“This?” she asked. “A baby? There’s not much mystery to them. They cry, sleep, and eat.”
He studied her face, admiring her confidence. “Perhaps I have a few things in common with my son.”
She laughed.
The doors opened and the two of them walked to the nurse’s desk. After that, things blurred together. The hospital room. The nurse giving Jessa papers, talking and talking. Words that made no sense. A metal cart rolling into the room. The flutter of a heartbeat, the rapid, shallow breathing of the infant inside. But it was the scent that spoke the truth.
He wasn’t prepared for the tidal wave of emotion that engulfed him. He, Finnegan Dean, was a monster.
Now he was a father.
He had a son.
The first-born werewolf of his reluctant pack.
…
Jessa stared around the large bedroom, the magnitude of the last few hours registering. She was in Finnegan Dean’s house. She was moving into Finnegan Dean’s house. And, no matter how hard she wanted to deny it, something about the man fascinated her. No, “fascinated” wasn’t strong enough.
This is bad.
She glanced at the clock on the wall. After the enormity of the morning, it seemed impossible that it was only three o’clock. Once they’d left the hospital, Mr. Dean had offered to stop to get her things, but she hadn’t wanted to keep Oscar out in the cold any longer than necessary. Her brother Harry was bringing over a bag of her things around five—not that he was happy about it. She’d tried to explain the situation but thought it would be easier to do so face-to-face. Without Mr. Dean within earshot of the conversation.
A soft squeak on the bed made her turn.
Oscar. Oscar Finnegan Dean the Fourth to be precise. A precious baby boy, sound asleep on her bed. This little guy was her responsibility.
A responsibility that gave her a new life. No more Miss Ramirez. No heels. No office politics. For now. Late night feedings and diaper changes were nothing. It was more like a six-week vacation.
A vacation in a swanky hotel.
A vacation with a man who seemed to have a direct line to her nervous system. Everything about him set off a current, white-hot, startling, and throbbing. He’d headed for the office after showing her around, but he’d be back eventually. She needed to figure out how to control her response to him—or cut the connection altogether. This job was just too important.
Her room looked like something out of an architecture and design magazine. Bold finishes. Modern fixtures. Muted colors. Even with a king-size bed, a desk, and a chaise before the large floor-to-ceiling picture windows, her room felt almost empty.
As impressive as the space was, it didn’t radiate warmth. Or home. Or happiness. She glanced at the sleeping baby and smiled. “Not that you’ll notice for a while.” Oscar’s mouth nursing, his little fingers splayed, then clenched as he slept on. He was perfect.
She tucked the blanket around him and padded barefoot across the room. Staring down through the window, she could see the busy streets below, the traffic and pedestrians of downtown San Antonio steady. The rest of the world hadn’t changed—even if hers had.
But she still had work to do.
She settled at her desk, opened the laptop already set up, and pulled out the suggested supply list from the hospital. She searched for Klemp’s site online and started shopping. Before she hit buy, she picked up her new phone and called. Thomas guaranteed delivery within the next few hours.
Once that was done, she sat on the bed by Oscar. He was beautiful. She’d only held him long enough to move him from the bassinette to his car seat, but his slight weight and baby smell had tugged something deep inside of her. He’d made an adorable gurgle, sighed, and settled into an easy sleep. She’d tucked the thick blanket she’d purchased around him and stood back, but Mr. Dean hadn’t offered to carry him.
In fact, Mr. Dean hadn’t offered to touch his son. He’d barely looked at him.
“It’s okay, Oscar, your daddy will figure it out soon enough,” she said, stroking the baby’s cheek. “Sometimes grown-ups take a while to adjust to changes. And, tiny as you are, you’re a huge change for someone like your father.”
Oscar grunted, wiggled, and burst into tears.
She grinned and picked him up. She cradled him close, once more appreciating just how tiny he was. “Are you tired of lying there?” she asked. “Well, let’s get you changed and something to eat.”
She’d unloaded her bag from Klemps earlier, prepared for the eventual end of Oscar’s nap. She changed his diaper, inspecting his toes and fingers, his long legs, a birthmark on his little hip, and rounded tummy. He was perfect—and red-faced and screaming by the time he was swaddled and cradled against her chest.
“Come on,” she said, unruffled. “Let’s get you something to eat, shall we?”
Mr. Dean’s housekeeper, Augustina, wasn’t the least bit pleased with Jessa or Oscar’s arrival. And since she had no idea what Mr. Dean had said to the woman by way of introduction, she could do little but make small talk and act like nothing was out of the ordinary.
She smiled at the middle-aged woman as she made Oscar’s bottle, chatting to the baby the whole time. She’d always done that; her mother had told her the best thing she could do with her brothers was talk to them and let them hear her voice. It made them feel less afraid and alone—or so her mother had said.
Once the formula was ready, Jessa cradled Oscar and offered him the bottle.
“He’s loud,” Augustina said.
“He is,” Jessa agreed.
“There’s a rocking chair in the front room,” Augustina said, pointing. “Through there.”
“Thank you.” Jessa left, carefully cuddling Oscar as she headed down the hall and into the front room. It was as modern as the rest of the house. Impressive, but stark. The rocking chair resembled a piece of modern art but was surprisingly comfortable. She sat, bracing Oscar on her shoulder to burp him. He did, with gusto.
“Well, that was impressive,” she said, laughing.
She looked up to find Finnegan Dean standing in the doorway. He was watching them curiously, frozen in place. “It was,” he agreed.
Oscar fussed then, so Jessa offered him the rest of the bottle. “Would you like to feed him, Mr. Dean?”
“No,” he said, his gaze intense.
She turned her focus back to the baby then. If Oscar Finnegan Dean the third wasn’t ready to accept Oscar Finnegan Dean the fourth, then she’d have to compensate for it. At least for now.
“Did you shop?” he asked.
“Yes. Thomas said everything would arrive by five,” she said.
“I’m sure he did,” he said softly. “Anytime now.”
She nodded. “Which room is Oscar’s?”
“The one next to yours,” he said. “I’ll have it emptied.” He typed something on his phone. “What else?”
She shook her head. “Do you have any requirements you’d like the nanny agency to consider? I know it’s early, but I want to contact them now, give them time to pull the best candidates versus waiting until the last minute.”
“Experience and length of service with each family.” He leaned against the doorframe, looking at the baby in her arms. “I don’t want him to get attached to someone who will leave him.”
She nodded, glancing at Oscar. He was dozing, his little pink lips sliding off the bottle. She smiled, lifted him against her shoulder, and patted his back.
“No one under forty. I don’t want anyone hoping to get to me through him,” he added.
She looked at Finnegan Dean, struggling to understand the position he was in. He was a wealthy, gorgeous man. Of course women would use any angle available to try to win him over. What would that be like, to be so sought after? To be wary and suspect of everyone you met? Clearly he didn’t feel that way about her. She didn’t know if that was a compliment…or an insult. She decided to believe the former.
“I’ll do my best, Mr. Dean.” She stood, walking closer. “He has long legs and a birthmark on his hip.”
“Does he… Ten fingers and toes?” He stared at the baby with…fear?
Poor Finnegan Dean. She smiled. “He’s perfect. Would you like to hold him?”
“No.” His gaze moved to her then. “Not yet.”
She nodded, gripped with sympathy. She was still processing the changes in her day, but this wasn’t her life. In six weeks, her life would return to normal—for the most part. But Mr. Dean would come home to his son every night until the day little Oscar went off to college. A daunting change for a man used to freedom.
She shifted Oscar in her arms, his little hand catching the silk neckline of her blouse and pulling the fabric down. The lace edge of her pale pink bra was a stark contrast to her dark gray blouse. She lifted his tiny hand and tucked it into his blanket, her cheeks hot as she tried to adjust her clothing.
She glanced at Mr. Dean, hoping he’d missed the whole slip. He stood, his eyes pressed tightly closed and his brow furrowed deeply.
The doorman buzzed, and Mr. Dean’s eyes opened, his gaze slipping over her. “Thomas,” he murmured.
“Or Harry,” she offered, hurrying to explain Harry’s no-doubt irritated attitude. “He’s not thrilled that he’ll be in charge. If he’s a bit prickly, that’s why.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Mr. Dean smiled, pressing the button by the intercom. “Yes?”
“A large delivery sir,” the doorman said.
Oscar chose that moment to burp then dissolved into tears. She patted him, bouncing him gently in her arms, while Finnegan Dean stared in horror. She carried the baby out, knowing Oscar’s screams were hard to talk over. She kept bouncing and patting, making her way to her room. Once there, she changed Oscar into a dry diaper and wrapped him in a clean blanket before scooping him up and walking toward the window.
He calmed, grunting and wriggling until he was comfortable enough to fall back to sleep.
She spread another blanket on the middle of the bed and laid Oscar on his back, surrounding him with pillows for her benefit. He was too little to roll, she knew that. She waited, one hand resting on his swaddled body, to ensure he was sleeping peacefully. He didn’t stir, but his little mouth suckled in his sleep, and she stood. She smiled, left the door ajar, and made her way down the hall.
“Hey, Jessa,” Thomas said, waiting. “You want to check over the list and make sure we have everything you requested?”
She took the clipboard from him, checking off each item before signing off. “I appreciate how prompt you were.”
“If you point me in the right direction, I’ll assemble the crib before I go,” he offered.
She led him down the hall to the room that adjoined hers through a shared bathroom. It was a large, airy room with a wonderful view of the new park. She could imagine a window seat with pillows piled high and a tower of books to read.
“I think it will fit here,” she said.
He nodded.
“Do you need anything?” she asked.
“I brought my own tools.” He smiled, looking at her with an appreciative eye.
“I’ll leave you to it,” she said, turning to go…and found Mr. Dean watching them. “This is Oscar’s room? It’s perfect, lots of room to grow.” She smiled at him. “Thomas has offered to assemble the crib.”
“Good,” Mr. Dean said. “I have a conference call soon. I’ll be unavailable for some time.”
She nodded. She understood why he was here, working from home, and that today was one distraction after another. Not his norm. He was usually at the office late. Lara, the fifth-floor receptionist and her frequent lunch buddy, lived to tell her all about Finnegan Dean’s comings and goings. And, per Lara, Mr. Dean was a schedule man. “I’ll try to keep things quiet.”
He nodded, glanced at Thomas, and left.
“Your boss is pretty intense,” Thomas said once they were alone. “But I love Dean Automotive cars. Some of the few cars on the road that still have a unique profile.”
She nodded. “You can spot a Dean vehicle a mile away.”
“Good company to work for?” Thomas asked, opening the box and pulling out the pieces.
“Definitely,” she agreed.
“So, Jessa, what do you do after hours?” he asked, smiling.
She smiled back. “I go home to three younger brothers. And a sister, though she’s out of state—at college. Never a dull moment in my house.”
“Three?” He frowned. “They have to approve your dates?”
She laughed. “I don’t date very often.”
“I’d like to change that,” he said. “Maybe, if you’re free, you’d consider having dinner with me?”
He was nice. And handsome. The kind of guy that would be easy to fall into a relationship with. Maybe she should give it a try. It had been two years since she broke up with Benjamin. And there were times she forgot she was a young woman with every right to a social life.
“When would this dinner date be?” she asked. “I’m on call for…a while.” Six weeks sounded like a put-off, and she didn’t want him to think she wasn’t interested. He was definite maybe.
“After a while sounds good,” he said, smiling. “Since I’m thinking you’ll be needing more baby supplies in the meantime?”
“Probably,” she agreed.
He nodded, leveling her with a look of pure masculine appreciation.
She heard the intercom buzzer and hurried from the room.
“Yes?”
“Miss Talbot? There’s a Mr. Harry Talbot here to see you?” the doorman’s voice crackled.
“Please send him up,” she said, pressing the button.
Five minutes later, Harry arrived. His confusion was almost comical.
“What’s going on?” he asked, lugging her large suitcase behind him. “You’re shacking up with your boss?”
She rolled her eyes. “Really, Harry? I’m not shacking up with anyone.” She took the smaller suitcase from him and led him down the hall to her room. “I am helping Mr. Dean out for a while,” she explained. “Did you bring everything I asked?”
He followed her into her room. “I hope so. Nice digs,” he said. “This is only for a couple of weeks, right?”
“Maybe more.” She nodded, intentionally vague to prevent full-blown panic on the home front. She and Oscar would be making regular visits; she was certain of that. “You found the schedule I emailed? There are plenty of casseroles in the freezer to last a while. Do not order pizza every night.”
Harry sighed.
“I mean it,” she continued. “Pizza is expensive and, unless you get a second job, an extravagance we can’t afford.”
“I know,” he said. “This the rug rat?” he asked, looking at Oscar sleeping on the bed. “He’s cute. Super new, from the looks of him.”
“This is Oscar,” she said. Oscar kept right on snoozing, making her smile. “Oscar, this is Harry, my little brother.”
“He’s thrilled to meet me,” Harry said.
“Everyone’s thrilled to meet you, Harry.” She hugged her brother. “Promise me you’ll keep everything on track.”
“Jessa, I am about to graduate from college. I think I can make sure the others don’t burn down the house for a week—”
“And make sure homework gets done. If you don’t check it, it’s not done. Trust me on this,” she added. “And make sure Nate takes his asthma meds and gets to his guitar lesson.”
“And has karate on Tuesday, I know,” he said, sounding exasperated.
“Okay, fine, I’ll lay off,” she said.
Harry laughed. “That’ll be a first.”
She laughed, too. “Smart-ass.”
“So all the stuff piled in the hallway is for him?” Harry asked. “How does something so little need so much?”
“I was wondering the same thing,” Mr. Dean said, joining them. “But I trust your sister’s judgement entirely. Finnegan Dean,” he said, offering his hand. “You must be Harry?”
Harry shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Dean.”
“Finn, please,” Mr. Dean said.
“Finn,” Harry repeated. “My sister is all-knowing when it comes to kids—plenty of experience. And she’s frugal. So, if she bought it, she must think you need it.”
She smiled. “You’re being nice.”
Harry grinned. “I didn’t think you’d appreciate me calling you a tightwad in front of your boss.”
Finnegan Dean laughed. “I appreciate someone watching my overhead expenses for me.”
She glanced at Mr. Dean, more than a little stunned by just how beautiful he was when he laughed, then her brother. “Feeding three teenage boys is all about watching expenses. So, remember, there are plenty of casseroles in the freezer. You will not starve, no matter what the others might say.”
“I got it, I got it,” Harry said, holding up his hands.
She frowned at him. “We’ll see how long you go before you call me.”
“Why not write up a list, and I’ll have it delivered,” Mr. Dean offered.
“You don’t have to,” she assured him.
“It’s no trouble. Considering the inconvenience I’ve caused your family,” he continued.
She tried again, “No inconvenience—”
“I insist, Miss Talbot.” His tone was authoritative, ending her arguments and giving rise to a slight flare of irritation.
“Just call this number and tell them what you want when you need it. No questions asked.” He handed Harry a card.
Harry glanced at her, reluctant, before tucking the card into his pocket. “Thank you. Guess I should head out, make sure homework is getting done and the house isn’t in a state of emergency.” He winked at her, dropping a kiss on her cheek. “Don’t worry, Jessa. We can behave.”
She arched a brow. “When you want to.”
“Mr. Dean—Finn.” Harry nodded at Finn.
“Nice to meet you, Harry,” he said. “I’ll walk you out.”
She tried to dismiss her irritation. She had a hard time taking help from others. Most of her life had been about becoming self-sufficient. And while Finnegan Dean might think nothing of his offer, it was no small thing to her.
She unpacked the infant monitor and put in batteries, then cut off tags and set Oscar’s new clothing aside to wash. She’d prefer to wash everything before using them on Oscar, to ensure the he didn’t have allergies.
She glanced at the baby, still sleeping, and smiled. So little and helpless. She could only imagine the life this boy would have, the experiences and adventures he’d live. Travel, the best education, and wealth.… And, right now, it was up to her to find the best person to love him—other than his father.
She sat on the bed, placing a hand on the baby boy. “Don’t you worry, Oscar. I’ll find you the best nanny. She’ll give you kisses and hugs, and twirl you around. She’ll sing to you and read with you and play pretend and let you make messes. You can count on me.”