The Rival's Heir. Joss Wood
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had been a bit slow lately and she needed a new, lucrative project. She also needed to finish the renovations to two small apartment buildings she owned in Back Bay and get them on the market, but she knew it might take some time to sell them at the price she wanted.
Thank God she was due her quarterly dividend check from Winston and Brogan tomorrow; that was the money she’d allocated to her IVF fund. With that money and any she managed to save over the next four months, she could have the procedure in five months’ time. At the thought, her stomach churned, then burned.
Unlike Huntley and his ex, she wanted a child.
Didn’t she?
The two Europeans exchanged a long look as if they were silently arguing about who was going to do the honors of changing the little girl. They both looked horrified.
“I need to get going,” Darby said.
A charming smile crossed the lawyer’s face. “The nanny we hired to look after Jacquetta since we left Italy has been dismissed. Could you change her since neither of us knows how?”
“What makes you think I do?” Darby asked.
Mr. Slick just shrugged, and Darby knew she was being played. It had been years since she’d changed a diaper, but she’d looked after babies as a teenager. She was sure it was like riding a bike; one didn’t just forget. And God, if she left little Jacquetta—goodness, what a mouthful—in their hands, the kid would be more miserable than she was now. It was one diaper, Darby could deal.
Darby held out her hand for the bag draped over the lady’s shoulder. Darby would change Jacquetta—Jac—make up a bottle for the little girl and send them on their way. There was no doubt she’d remember this encounter for the rest of her life: hot guy, cute kid, drama...
“There’s a baby room just around the corner.” Darby jerked her head at the woman. “You’re coming with me.”
“Perché?”
Why? Jeez, these people were seriously whacked. “Because you don’t just hand over a baby to a stranger, that’s why.”
Mr. Slick smiled at her. “The corridor ends just beyond the restroom so there is nowhere to take little Jacquetta. If you wanted to steal her, you’d have to pass by us. And we’ll be here waiting.”
Darby frowned, unease crawling across her skin.
“Besides, this is one of the best hotels in Boston, there are cameras everywhere.” Mr. Slick winced as Jacquetta’s cries escalated in volume.
Dammit. She was going to do this.
Darby started to walk down the hallway. Feeling eyes on her, she looked back. Her gut was screaming at her that their expressions were too bland, that she was being played. How the hell had she ended up in this situation?
Then Jac released a high-pitched scream and Darby looked down, her heart hurting over the little girl’s distress. The baby, defenseless and innocent, had to come first. Darby would change her and make up a bottle, maybe give her a little cuddle and then Darby would hand her back.
Her life would go back to normal in ten minutes.
Darby walked down the corridor, her hand tapping Jac’s little bottom, unable to resist dropping a kiss on the baby’s curly head. In the baby changing room, Darby laid Jac on the soft changing table and looked down into the little girl’s exquisite face.
“Should I have one just like you?”
Jac, being no more than nine months old, didn’t have a clue.
Little Jac sucked her bottle as Darby walked back down the hallway, her shoulders aching from the unaccustomed weight of holding a baby and a seriously heavy baby bag. The baby was clean and happy, and Darby could hand her over and go back to her life.
Except that, when she turned the corner, there was nobody to hand the baby back to.
Hearing noise from the elevator, Darby spun around and saw the two lawyers standing in the elevator.
“Give the baby to Judah Huntley,” Mr. Slick told her, his words sliding between the closing doors.
Darby couldn’t believe what they’d done. They’d left Jac with a stranger! How did they know she wasn’t a psycho, that she wouldn’t just walk off with the baby?
Dumping the heavy bag into the stroller and leaving it in the hallway, Darby pushed open the door to the ballroom with her hip and scanned the audience. It wasn’t difficult to find Huntley since he was taller than pretty much everyone. His dark head was bent to better hear the words of an olive-skinned brunette wearing a low top. Her expression brazenly suggested that she wouldn’t say no if Huntley invited her to take a tour of his guest suite, or the nearest closet.
Irrationally annoyed, Darby focused on the photographs flashing onto the presentation screen on the far side of the room, each image stealing her breath. The first photo was of Huntley’s proposed design for the Grantham-Ford museum and it was fantastic. The building looked curvy and feminine, sultry and almost, dare she say it, sexy. It was stunning and, dammit, so much better than her own design. The man deserved to win the commission. As images of his previous designs rolled across the wall, she stood there, blown away yet again by his talent.
Darby pulled her gaze away from the images and looked back to the creator of those magnificent buildings, surprised to find his eyes on her. God, he was a good-looking man. An intriguing combination of sexy and smart, tough and taciturn.
She jerked her head to summon him over and studied him as he made his way toward her, graceful despite his height and large frame.
Stepping back into the hall, Darby glanced down at the sleeping bundle in her arms, smiling at the very feminine version of that masculine man heading her way. She’d hand Jac over to her him and remind herself that this beautiful child was not her problem. She had her own baby issues to figure out.
As Judah reached the door, the chairman of the board, so in love with his own voice, tapped his glass with a spoon and the room fell quiet.
Puffed up with self-importance, he spoke into the microphone. “Given this foundation’s commitment to supporting Bostonian talent, I understand that some of our local professionals might be upset that the design has been awarded to a New York–based architect, but the winning design was simply outstanding. That said, it is my great pleasure to announce that Huntley and Associates is looking for a local architect to work with Judah Huntley on the art museum project.”
The room erupted into clapping and cheers, and Darby looked at Judah, her eyebrows raised.
Judah shrugged before murmuring, “He’s making it sound like more than it is. My new hire will be little more than a glorified intern, the liaison between the foundation and myself.”
Darby felt the sharp nip of annoyance. “She or he won’t get to work on the construction documentation?”
“I have a team back in New York for that. They are a well-oiled machine.”
So the position was not something she was interested in. She was an architect, not an intern. “Do you intend to pay this person or are they expected to work for the honor of being able to put your name as a reference on their resume?”
He didn’t react to her snippiness. “They’ll be paid.”
“How much?” Darby demanded. She wasn’t interested in working as an intern but she was curious what world-renowned architects paid.
Judah named a figure and Darby’s mouth fell open. That much? Seriously? Well, wow. At that rate, her interest rose. Pity he was a baby-rejecting jerk or she’d put her name in the hat.
Jac hiccuped in her sleep and Judah’s eyes shifted to the living doll in Darby’s arms. She looked into his face for any hint of acceptance or compassion and felt disappointed when she found none. She didn’t like him, but she reluctantly conceded that his hard