Inheriting His Secret Christmas Baby by Heidi Betts

continued to blaze, and Haylie’s jaw worked as though she were grinding her teeth to keep from shrieking.
    “Invitation?” she repeated, her tone acid sharp. “Don’t you mean order?”

Five
    “So that’s it, isn’t it. You’re ordering us to stay here.”
    They were in the living room, logs crackling in the fireplace, the afternoon sun casting a lovely rose glow over the snowcapped evergreens and sleek white mountain slopes through the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the west side of the house.
    After taking a drowsy Bradley from his car seat, Trevor had given them a quick tour of the first floor while Haylie continued to fume. The baby was settled on a blanket in the middle of the floor now, his diaper changed and another bottle emptied. He was taking turns playing with his feet and a plastic ring of toys Haylie had pulled from her bag of tricks.
    Haylie, however, was standing on the other side of the room, fuming. Her arms were crossed at her waist and her toe was tapping, actually tapping, in time with her bottled-up frustration.
    “It’s not an order,” Trevor told her, doing his best to mollify her. Yes, he could force her to go along with what he wanted, but he would prefer to have her stay with him willingly. Or at least not as an adversary.
    Moving into the open kitchen, he lifted two wine-glasses from the rack hanging over the center island and pulled a bottle of his favorite merlot from the island itself. Then he went in search of a corkscrew. “I’m asking you to stay here for a while,” he continued, keeping his voice mild and hopefully cajoling without sounding patronizing. “So that I can be closer to Bradley. So I can get to know him through you, as well as getting to know you and learn more about your sister.”
    As well, keeping an eye on them. If they were under his roof, he could be sure she didn’t do anything stupid like going to the press or deciding to seek her fifteen minutes of fame, along with a hefty payoff from the Jarrod family coffers.
    With the cork free, he poured two healthy portions of the rich red wine and carried them back to the living area. He handed one to Haylie and was surprised when she took it—without tossing it in his face.
    “If Bradley really does turn out to be my son, then I’d appreciate this time with him. Private time, before the rest of the world finds out that I fathered a son with a woman I don’t remember, and then didn’t find out about him for two months after her death.”
    Haylie cringed a bit at the word death, and he immediately regretted his matter-of-fact tone. Regardless of how he might feel about the woman who presumably kept his child from him for four months…and nine months before that, if he counted the full term of her pregnancy…he needed to remember she was Haylie’s sister and that Haylie had loved her.
    He took a sip of wine, pleased when she followed suit, then said in a softer voice, “You have no idea how callous the media can be when it comes to a family like mine. They keep us in the crosshairs of their telephoto lenses twenty-four seven, leaving us very little privacy, and turning every tiny occurrence into a major publicity campaign—to their benefit, not ours. They’re especially talented at taking everyday, average events and blowing them completely out of proportion.”
    Tunneling his fingers through his hair, he blew out an aggravated breath. “If word were to get out about why you’re here, even before we hear back from the doctor, headlines will be splashed across every gossip rag in the country labeling me a deadbeat dad and your sister a gold digger who intentionally got pregnant with a Jarrod heir.”
    Haylie seemed to consider that, swirling the merlot absently in her glass. Firelight reflected off the dark red wine and flickered shadows over her slim form while the muted sunlight shining through the window at her back cast her in an almost angelic glow that brought out the myriad shades of gold and