Strictly Temporary

“This snow’s not letting up. If we’re going back into town we need to go now.”

“My cabin’s a short drive from here,” he said. “Don’t know about you, but I’d rather dance naked in that snow than be stuck in a cab when she wakes up crying.”

The baby squeaked again, louder this time. Then her nose wrinkled before she settled fitfully. Trinity pressed her lips together for a moment, and then her hold on the seatbelt eased.

“All right. We’ll go to your place.”

Wasting no time, Zack tapped the driver’s shoulder and the cab pulled carefully out of the snow-clogged drive.

Despite her stand, his instinct said she was as attracted to him as he was to her. Could be interesting getting to know her a little better.

Gazing out the window, Zack slowly smiled.

Who was he kidding? Truth was he’d like to get to know Ms. Matthews and her attitude a whole lot more….

About the Author

One Christmas long ago ROBYN GRADY received a book from her big sister and immediately fell in love with Cinderella. Sprinklings of magic, deepest wishes come true—she was hooked! Picturebooks with glass slippers later gave way to romance novels and, more recently, the real-life dream of writing for Mills & Boon.

After a fifteen-year career in television, Robyn met her own modern-day hero. They live on Australia’s Sunshine Coast with their three little princesses, two poodles, and a cat called Tinkie. She loves new shoes, worn jeans, lunches at Moffat Beach and hanging out with her friends on eHarlequin.

Learn about her latest releases at www.robyngrady.com, and don’t forget to say hi. She’d love to hear from you!

Recent titles by the same author:

THE WEDDING MUST GO ON

EVERY GIRL’S SECRET FANTASY

NAUGHTY NIGHTS IN THE MILLIONAIRE’S MANSION

DEVIL IN A DARK BLUE SUIT

Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

Strictly

Temporary

Robyn Grady

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dear Reader

When my editor asked if I wanted to write a story about billionaires and babies, my answer was an emphatic, ‘You bet!’ Nothing brings out a big strong man’s vulnerabilities more than placing a tiny person in his uncompromising line of advance. And as I tossed around ideas for a storyline the ways to create and widen cracks in my hero’s armour began to grow.

My favourite kind of hero is in charge of his environment. He knows what he wants and how to get it on his terms. I began to scheme ways to place as many roadblocks in cool-and-collected Zack Harrison’s ‘environment’ as possible. First a much coveted business deal simply won’t come together. Then a freak snowstorm leaves Zack isolated with a baby who has materialised out of thin air. Finally there’s an incredibly sexy woman who not only disapproves of practically everything Zack stands for, but also manages to challenge his deepest beliefs. Check, check and check!

After a single day and two amazing nights, when these problems are finally cleared from his life, Zack barely recognises himself. This predicament—the unprecedented feelings Trinity Matthews and that abandoned baby have brought out in him—was all supposed to be STRICTLY TEMPORARY.

Please visit my website, www.robyngrady.com, for the latest on contests, releases and to link up on Twitter and my Facebook page.

Hope you enjoy the story!

Best wishes

Robyn

This story is dedicated to another gorgeous Zack.

Mission accomplished!

With much thanks to my wonderful editor, Shana Smith, for her continuing belief and support, as well as to Jessica Alvarez for her fabulous input.

Much appreciated, ladies!

One

Cool. Unruffled.

Nothing rattled Zack Harrison’s cage.

He viewed Denver’s unseasonal snowfall this afternoon as a picturesque bonus more than an inconvenience. Today’s setback with regard to his latest acquisition strike was another challenge, not a reason to rant. Achieving a goal should involve effort, Zack decided as he shrugged into his overcoat, thanked the concierge and collected his briefcase. He’d simply need to get more…inventive was the word.

However, his patience was sorely tested when it came to the press. Last month’s beat-up was nothing short of laughable. Apparently he was a fiend who left underprivileged families homeless in order to expand his evil empire. And what about that recent piece questioning his treatment of an ambitious actress he’d been seeing? Without exception he treated women with respect but, from the get-go, he and Ally had agreed upon “fun and casual,” not “if I don’t see a diamond ring, I’ll expose your darkest secret.” As if blackmail would work. Unlike his father and siblings, this Harrison didn’t give a rat’s behind what people thought.

But on this late-spring afternoon, as he strode from the hotel’s entrance, yanked open the waiting cab’s back passenger door and zipped inside the toasty cabin, Zack’s calm fled and he jumped back in his seat. He took a moment to adjust and study his unexpected company before leaning forward to tap the driver’s shoulder.

“Your last fare forgot something.”

The cabbie angled around. “A wallet?”

“No,” Zack said. “A baby.”

The other back door swung open. A cool rush whooshed inside along with a woman wearing a hooded cherry-red coat. She set a matching overnighter on her lap and promptly slapped the door shut against the howling drifts. Blowing warmth into her cupped hands, her attention shifted. Beneath the red hood, curious eyes the color of new violets slid from the infant car seat carrier up to Zack and back again.

He considered her face, those eyes, and his chest grew unusually warm. He hadn’t met this woman before and yet something in her glittering gaze had him wondering if he knew her. Perhaps he’d simply like to.

“I was in such a hurry, I didn’t see you get in,” she said, wrapping her manicured hands around the lip of her case. “Actually I couldn’t see much at all. Crazy, isn’t it? All this snow, I mean.”

A slow smile hooked one side of his mouth as Zack’s gaze drank her in. “Yeah,” he said. “Crazy.”

“It seems like the concierge called a cab ages ago. I walked to the curb to see if I could hail one down. I thought it might never come.”

Zack’s smile faded. He’d stolen her ride? When he’d checked out a few minutes ago, the front desk had organized a cab. Exiting the hotel’s foyer, he’d merely assumed.

He leaned forward again, spoke to the driver. He’d pick off this easier problem then take care of that other more complicated baby matter next.

“Are you answering a call?”

“Just back from dropping a fare at the airport.” The man behind the wheel pushed a maroon beret back on his brow before flicking on the meter. “Thought I’d swing in here and try my luck. No one’s going out in this weather ’less they have to.”

“The airport.” Red Riding Hood tipped forward, too. “That’s where I’m headed. I need to get back to New York for an interview first thing tomorrow. I’m a features writer for Story Magazine.” Her bright look said, You’ve heard of it, right?

Acting suitably informed and impressed despite his aversion, Zack nodded and said, “Of course,” a moment before she dragged back the hood. The shadow framing her face lifted and Zack forgot to breathe.

Other than her cheeks, which were flushed a healthy pink, her complexion was as flawless as porcelain. Her hair, a luxurious mane, rested like a sable mantle over two slim straight shoulders. Her violet eyes were so vibrant their light penetrated and illuminated places he hadn’t known existed.

He’d dated some beauties in his time, women who drew attention when they floated into a room and were comfortable exerting their power over the opposite sex. But Zack couldn’t recall having met a female whose company literally left him short on air, and not only because of something as superficial as looks. In the clear depths of her eyes…the poised yet innocent manner with which she listened and spoke…

Quite simply, this woman glowed.

After today’s unproductive meeting with the owner of this building he was ready to kick back and get home—home being the two-story private cabin he chilled at whenever he stopped in town. But the delectable Red was obviously in a hurry, eager to leave Denver and its freak weather behind. He’d be happy to play the gentleman and wait for another cab.

Which also meant she and the driver could work out between them what to do about this baby, who, thankfully, was still sound asleep.

Peaceful.

Zack looked harder.

Almost too peaceful. He had the damnedest urge to check each tiny finger curled over that wrap to make certain they were warm.

Red was peering at the baby, too. “I see you have a little one to worry about. She’s gorgeous.” She sighed then drew away. “I’ll ask the concierge to call and see where my cab is.”

As she turned to find her door’s handle, Zack’s muscles clenched and he caught her sleeve. Red couldn’t leave. She had it all wrong.

When her gaze hooked back—unsure, concerned—he released her arm and coughed out a hoarse laugh at the same time he glanced at the baby.

“This isn’t mine.”

The cabbie grunted. “Sure as heck ain’t mine.”

The woman blinked two sets of generous lashes and her lips twitched as if she wanted to smile but didn’t dare. “She looks a little young to travel alone.”

She. Zack had to ask.

“How do you know it’s a girl?” The carrier, blanket and bonnet were as white as the snow piling up on the sidewalk and road.

“Well, her face is so sweet.” Expression melting, Red curved the back of her hand over the baby’s bonneted crown and a tiny pair of lips pursed in and out as if she were dreaming about dinner. “Rosebud mouth,” Red went on. “Cute and tiny. She’s too pretty to be a boy.”

The driver drummed his thumbs on the wheel. “Meter’s running, folks.”

“Of course.” Gathering herself, Red pulled away. “I’ll let you go.”

For a second time that day, Zack’s calm evaporated. But now his mouth went completely dry, and sweat broke on the back of his neck. This afternoon was supposed to finish with a quiet brandy in front of a toasty fire, not tossing a hot potato like this around. He didn’t even like babies… . Or, more correctly, they didn’t like him.

“What are we supposed to do with her?” he asked.

“Not we, pal.” The cabbie slotted the shift into gear.

His voice deep, Zack spoke to the man who clearly wasn’t his “pal.” “I told you, she isn’t mine.”

Red slanted her head and a stream of sable spilled over one shoulder. “What’s she doing here then?”

“Beats me. Who’d you drop off last?” he asked the driver.

“An eighty-year-old man with a cane.” The cabbie slid his beret back again. “He was flying out to see family in Jersey, and he wasn’t carrying no bassinet.”

The cabbie’s expression said, Don’t know your game, son, but don’t try to dump your problems on me.

Zack growled. How many times did he have to say it? The baby wasn’t his! At least it seemed that Red believed him.

Her face had lost all color as if every drop of blood had rushed to her feet. Her question came out a struggled whisper as though she shouldn’t speak the words too loud for fear they might be true.

“Do you think someone abandoned her?”

“Guess the authorities will have to figure that out.”

Zack didn’t like the situation—not a bit. He knew less than zip about babies and had every intention of keeping it that way. Marriage and its inevitable complications were the furthest things from his mind. But, in this matter…

Ah, hell, what choice did he have? Red was in a legitimate hurry and—no getting around it—he had been the one to make the find. Either the guy behind the wheel could outact Tom Hanks or he sincerely had no clue. God only knew how a baby could end up alone in the backseat of a cab.

Zack’s gaze roamed the small sleeping form, those rosebud lips, that button nose, and his heart swelled and dropped. Some things you simply couldn’t shrug off.

After flexing his fingers, he slid a firm grip around the unharnessed car seat’s handle.

“I’ll bring her to the police station.” His voice was hushed now. He didn’t want to wake her and maybe have her cry. “They can call Child Services.”

“But they could take ages to collect her.”

“I only know a baby doesn’t sleep forever and I don’t carry spare diapers around in my breast pocket.”

Red quietly searched around the foot of the blanket. “There’s a bottle here,” she said, “some formula and a few diapers, too.”

“The officers at the local precinct will be most appreciative.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “I’m sure they’ll be eternally grateful.”

Zack narrowed his eyes at her. What was she after? He was a businessman, for Pete’s sake, not a babysitter—no matter how cute the kid.

The driver adjusted his rearview mirror. “Should I drop you two lovebirds off at a café so you can nut this out?”

“We’re not lovebirds.” Zack gripped the carrier’s handle more tightly while Red held his gaze for an interminably long moment before surprising him yet again. Her slim nostrils flared, her delicate chin lifted a notch.

Then she reached out and her hand closed over his.

The sensation of her palm pressing, fingers brushing, sent his thoughts and pulse leaping. In an instant he became intensely aware of her scent, subtle and citrus, and the fact that her left hand bore no rings. The idea she might be unattached—available—hijacked and toyed with his mind.

When her fingers moved enough to scoop beneath his, her nails teased his palm and a jet of heat, like the initial burst of a flame, licked a hot path through his veins. Pleasant. Tempting. His runaway thoughts bubbled with all kinds of possibilities that had nothing to do with a baby, except, perhaps, the making of one.

“You go on,” she said as her fingers wrapped around the carrier’s handle and his reluctantly eased away. “I’ll take her back inside with me. I can’t stand to think of her waiting in a police station. Who knows what types might be lurking around.”

Zack opened his mouth to argue. Red had a flight to catch. But in truth he couldn’t disagree about the police station; not the best environment for an infant who’d need attention once she woke. And the instinct that rarely failed him said this woman was competent and trustworthy. The baby would be in good hands until the proper authorities stepped in. After that…

At the twinge beneath his ribs, Zack set his jaw and squared his shoulders.

After that, no doubt the mother would show up, all teary but relieved, and the family would have a good story to share at the kid’s twenty-first.

But, for now, Red needed a hand to battle the snow and get them both inside.

He shifted. “I’ll help you back in.”

“No need.”

Before he could insist, she’d opened her door. Standing with her overnight case in one hand, she waved in the direction of the hotel entrance with the other. Zack glanced out the back window. Through swirls of snow, a uniformed bellman was striding over, monster umbrella fending off the inclement weather.

James Dirkins, the current owner of this hotel, had refused his first offer on behalf of Harrison Hotels, but at this moment Zack was more determined than ever. When he snared the deal, bought this hotel, his first priority would be to cover that forecourt. Such a basic thing. No wonder occupancy was down.

After handing her luggage to the bellman, Red slid out the carrier. She had the good grace to flash a quick smile goodbye before the bellman shut the door and Zack watched them shrink then vanish into the white.

“So, you going to the airport, pal?”

Gaze still on the drifts, Zack murmured, “A private address.”

“You want me to guess?”

But Zack wasn’t listening.

Red…

He didn’t even know her name.

“You could buy your own cab the way the meter’s clicking over,” the driver said. “Not that I’ll complain.”

Zack’s ears pricked, his stomach jumped and he sat straighter. Was that the wind he heard gusting outside or a baby’s cry?

Squeezing his eyes shut, he counted to three but, wouldn’t you know, the urge only grew. Wasn’t often Zack Harrison felt cornered. Beaten. But now he groaned, whipped out his wallet, dropped a bill over onto the front seat and told the driver, “Wait here. As long as it takes. I’ll be back.”

Trinity Matthews knew precisely what she’d gotten herself into.

Hours of waiting—and worrying—in a city where she knew no one; the naturopath she’d met and interviewed today for Story didn’t count. And yet as she moved over the polished marble floor, heading for the hotel’s sweeping timber reception desk with the baby carrier weighing on her arm, Trinity couldn’t regret her decision.

Child Services did their best, but lines were long and resources low. At one time, she’d applied for a job in the department but personal experience with the system, as well as insight into herself, said she’d never cut it. So many neglected or abandoned children…She’d want to take home every one.

Glancing down, Trinity studied the sleeping baby and raw emotion gripped and thickened in her throat. Nobody asked to be tossed away. Nobody deserved to be, certainly not this little angel. If, in fact, abandonment were the case.

The echoing slap of footfalls on marble came from behind. Trinity pivoted around. The man from the cab—the one with those incredible midnight eyes, that velvet smooth baritone and a smile that seemed strangely familiar—was jogging up toward her, dodging patrons and hotel staff, overcoat tails flapping behind. As he pulled up, a lock of dark hair fell over his brow and his broad shoulders rolled back as he drew in a deep breath. For a moment, Trinity felt a little out of breath herself. From head to foot, and everywhere in between, what an outstanding example of the male species. And there it was again…that niggle that whispered she knew him.

And maybe shouldn’t trust him.

Then he introduced himself and the pieces of that puzzle all fell magically into place.

“I forgot to introduce myself,” he said with a lopsided grin. “Zackery Harrison.”

Trinity’s eyes widened at the same time her stomach muscles clutched. Of course! Standing in the brighter light, who could dispute that dynamite build, the Hollywood looks, that authoritative air? In person, Mr. Harrison was indeed criminally sexy. From all she’d read, Trinity also knew he was a greedy, self-serving jerk.

But she wouldn’t call him out on that here, now. This was neither the place nor time to give Mr. Harrison a piece of her mind. Siphoning in a settling breath, she schooled her features and introduced herself.

“I’m Trinity Matthews.”

“Ms. Matthews,” he said, looking as commanding as he did in his numerous celebrity shots, whether appearing barechested on his yacht or looking sophisticated and invincible in a tailored suit and tie. “I’ve given this situation more thought and I want to help.”

Studying his charitable expression, she asked the obvious.

“Why?”

Wariness flickered in his eyes before he smiled again. “Because I have some spare time and you need to get back to New York.”

Trinity took in his intoxicating grin, white and inviting—the same smile that had reached out to intrigue her earlier in the cab. The same look that had seduced some of the country’s most beautiful women and persuaded officials to trade people’s homes for commercial profits. Her blood boiled to even think of self-serving, money-hungry corporate studs like Zack Harrison when so many people did without.

Which led back to the little person who needed her help now.

Whom did this baby belong to? What was her story? Trinity couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to cast her aside. She was so perfect. So beautiful.

“I’ll catch a later flight,” she told Harrison. “I might not be a world expert where caring for new babies is concerned, but chances are I know more than you.”

Weren’t women supposed to be instinctive about maternal matters like feeding and soothing? Of course, Trinity knew better than most there were exceptions.

When Zackery Harrison crossed his arms, a subtle cue to have her capitulate and be on her way back to New York, Trinity set down the carrier and crossed her arms, too.

“I’m not leaving,” she told him, “until I know she’s okay.”

“I have a place not far from here—”

“I said no.”

Babies needed constant care and attention. Love. She wasn’t certain Harrison even had a heart.

“My neighbors keep an eye on my place when I’m away,” he pushed on. “Mrs. Dale is a spritely grandmother of ten. She doesn’t like today’s music or grasshoppers, particularly when her dianthuses are in bloom. But she adores babies. She used to be a foster mom.”

Trinity suppressed a shudder. Despite her personal experience, certainly there must be a ton of fabulous ones. Still, she couldn’t help her reflex reaction. For years the term “foster mom” had been interchangeable with “monster mom,” aka Nasty Nora Earnshaw, her own foster mother.

“Mrs. Dale ran her own home child-care business not so long ago,” he went on. “Still has all the gear—high chairs, playpens. I know she’d be happy to help.” His dark eyes glittered. “You don’t want to miss your interview.”

Trinity’s fists unclenched.

Her job meant more to her than anything. It gave her the chance to travel and meet so many interesting and inspirational people. Individuals who touched others’ lives in so many ways. After living in a small Ohio town most of her life, she loved working in New York. She’d made friends there. Had made herself a life.

Her profession was a fiercely competitive one. In these tough times, positions were hard to come by. With three coworkers laid off last week due to more budget cuts, she couldn’t afford to rock the boat. But then there was this baby.

While patrons and hotel staff moved around them, going about their business, Trinity looked down again and her heart squeezed.

She didn’t trust Zack Harrison. How much did he truly know about this neighbor of his, Mrs. Dale? Trinity’s foster mother had given off a caring would-die-for-these-children impression, too. All a big fat lie.

“How can you be sure this miracle neighbor of yours will be in?” she asked.

“The Dales are homebodies. I’ve been in town a few days. When I passed by this morning, just before the snow began to fall, Mrs. D was hurrying inside her gate, back from taking one of her grandkids for a walk in the stroller.”

Nibbling her lower lip, Trinity glanced around the busy foyer…at the helpful receptionist, the bellboy waiting patiently nearby, the concierge at his desk looking ready at a moment to rush over and help.

She made her decision.

“We’re staying here. It’s a good hotel. Great staff—”

“This baby’s better off with someone who knows about children.”

His voice held a warning note—low and deep—but he didn’t look annoyed, merely determined. And, damn it, didn’t he have a point? They’d already established they had no idea how long the authorities would take getting out. And if she put her own past experience and suspicions aside, Mrs. Dale could be precisely what this baby needed at this uncertain point in time. To be fair, how much of her reluctance was about what was best for the baby and how much about her own issues and personal dislike for Mr. Harrison?