Seduction On His Terms

Would he ever see his mother again?

Landon would do whatever he wanted, if Robert didn’t stop him. There had to be a way.

You can do anything you want because you’re Dr. Robert freaking Wyatt, he heard Jeannie say.

Maybe she was right.

Now more than ever, he needed a drink.

“Well?” he said in that silky voice of his.

Once, Cybil had thought Landon Wyatt’s voice was the most seductive voice she’d ever heard.

That had been a long time ago. So long ago that all she could remember was the pain of realizing she’d been seduced, all right. She could barely remember the time when she’d been a naive coed right out of college, swept away by the charming billionaire fifteen years her senior.

She’d been paying for that mistake ever since. “He’s coming.”

Landon notched an eyebrow—a warning.

Cybil smiled graciously. “He’ll try to get there early, but he has rounds,” she went on, hoping Landon would dismiss her. Hearing Bobby’s voice again, the anger when he’d promised he could get her away from her husband of thirty-five years...

God, she’d missed her son. Maybe this time would be different. Bobby had grown into a fine man, a brilliant surgeon. Landon hated that both because Bobby worked for a living and, Cybil suspected, because Landon knew Bobby was far smarter.

If anyone could outthink Landon Wyatt, it’d be his own son.

Something warm and light bloomed in her chest. With a start, she realized it was hope.

What if there really was a way?

But Landon would never let her go.

A fact he reinforced when he stood and stroked a hand over her hair. Years of practice kept her from flinching at his touch. “I know you’ve missed him,” he murmured as if he hadn’t been the one keeping her from her son. His hand settled on the back of her neck and he began to squeeze. “So I know you’ll make sure he does what’s expected. Otherwise...”

“Of course,” Cybil agreed, struggling as his grip tightened.

Like she did every day, she thanked God Bobby had gotten away. If he were still trapped in this hell with her, she didn’t know how she’d bear it. But the knowledge that he was out there, saving children and living far from this—that kept her going. As long as her son was safe, she could endure.

She looked up at the man she’d married and smiled because he expected her to act as if she enjoyed being with him. Maybe... Maybe she wouldn’t have to endure much longer.

“Mr. Wyatt?” The sound of Alexander’s reedy voice cut through the office. “My apologies, but the campaign chairman is on line one.”

“Now what?” he growled, abruptly letting her go.

Cybil did not exhale in relief because he’d already forgotten she was here. She merely escaped while she could.

She didn’t want Bobby to be drawn back into his father’s world, and the fact that Landon was using her to get their son to fall into line sickened her. But Bobby’s anger, his willingness to stand up to his father...

No, maybe she wouldn’t have to endure this marriage much longer at all.

She needed to be ready.

Would Robert convince his mother to leave Landon?

The last time, it’d gone...poorly.

He needed a better plan this time.

More than just hiding Cybil Wyatt, Robert needed to make sure Landon wouldn’t ever be in a position to track her down.

His heart beat at a highly irregular pace. Last time he’d merely tried to hide his mother, in his own home, no less. He hadn’t had a contingency plan in place and without that plan, the whole rescue had been doomed to fail.

This time would be different.

Wyatts didn’t fail. They succeeded.

He entered Trenton’s at five past eight. Thank God Jeannie was back tonight. She might not be able to offer assistance but she could at least tell him if New Zealand was a good idea or not. She might be the only person he knew who’d tell him the truth. Now all he had to do was find a way to ask.

A soft, feminine voice purred, “Good evening, Dr. Wyatt. What can I get you?”

His head snapped up at the unfamiliar voice, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. The bar at Trenton’s was dimly lit, so it took a few moments for Robert to identify the speaker.

The woman behind the bar was not Jeannie. This woman was shorter, with long light-colored hair piled on top of her head. Jeannie was almost tall enough that she could look Robert in the eye, with dark hair cropped close.

“Where’s Jeannie?” he growled.

It was Monday. She was supposed to be here.

The woman behind the bar batted her eyes. “I’m Miranda. Jeannie’s on vacation. I’m more than happy to take care of you while she’s gone...”

Robert glared at her. Dammit, Jeannie had said one week. She’d promised. And now he needed her and she wasn’t here.

The pressure in his head was almost blinding. If he didn’t see Jeannie tonight—right now—he might do something they’d all regret.

“Dr. Wyatt?”

The world began to lose color at the edges, a numb gray washing everything flat.

He needed to leave before he lost control.

But he couldn’t because his mother had called him and there had to be a way to save her and he needed to see Jeannie.

She was the only one who could bring color back to his world.

“She’s not on vacation. Tell me where she is.” He leaned forward, struggling to keep his voice level. “Or else.”

Miranda’s teasing pout fell away as she straightened and stepped back. “She’s not here,” she said, the purr gone from her voice.

He wasn’t going to lash out. A Wyatt never lost control.

So instead of giving in to the gray numbness and doing what Landon would do, Robert forced himself to adjust the cuffs on his bespoke suit, which gave him enough time to breathe and attempt to speak calmly.

He studied Miranda. She held his gaze, but he could see her pulse beating at her throat. She was probably telling the truth.

“I’d like to speak with the owner. Please.”

The buzzing in his head became two discordant sounds. He could hear Landon snarling, Wyatts don’t ask, at the same time as he heard Jeannie say, in that husky voice of hers, There, was that so hard?

When was the first time Jeannie had said that to him? He didn’t remember. All he remembered was that she was the first person who’d ever dared tease him.

When he was sure he had himself back under control, he looked up. Miranda the substitute bartender wasn’t moving.

“Now,” Robert snarled.

With a jolt, she turned and fled.

It felt wrong to sit in his seat if Jeannie wasn’t on the other side of the bar. Like this place wasn’t home anymore.

Which was ridiculous because this was a bar where he spent maybe half an hour every night. It wasn’t his sprawling Gold Coast townhouse with million-dollar views of Lake Michigan. It wasn’t even the monstrosity of a mansion where he’d been raised by a succession of nannies. This was not home. This was just where Jeannie had been when he’d walked into this restaurant two years and ten months ago and sat down at this bar because he’d felt...lost.

It had been thirty-four months since Jeannie had stood in front of him, listening while he struggled to get his thoughts in order because his mother had refused to stay with him and Landon had come for her. Everything in Robert’s carefully constructed world had gone gray, which had been good because then Robert didn’t have to feel anything. Anything but the overpowering need for the perfect drink.

Sometimes, when Robert allowed himself to look back at that moment, he wondered if maybe Jeannie had been waiting patiently for him.

Where the hell was she?

Then it hit him. She’d said she had a family thing. She wasn’t here now.

Something had gone wrong.

The realization gave him an odd feeling, one he did not like. He liked it even less when Miranda the substitute bartender returned with a man that looked vaguely familiar.

“Dr. Wyatt, it’s so good to see you, as always,” the man said, smiling in a way Robert didn’t trust. “I’m sorry there’s a problem. How can I correct things?”

Robert was running out of patience. “Who are you?”

“Julian Simmons.” He said it in a way that made it clear Robert was supposed to remember who he was. “I own Trenton’s. You’re one of our most valued customers, so if there’s a problem, I’m sure we can—”

Robert cut the man off. “Where’s Jeannie?”

Robert couldn’t tell in the dim light, but he thought Simmons might have gone a shade whiter. “Jeannie is taking some personal time.”

Only a fool would think personal time and vacation time were the same thing. Robert was many things, but foolish wasn’t one of them. “Is she all right?”

Simmons didn’t answer for another long beat.

Something had happened; Robert knew it. Helplessness collided with an ever-increasing anger. He was not going to stand by while another woman was hurt. Not when he had the power to stop it.

“Jeannie is fine,” Simmons finally said. “We’re hopeful that she will rejoin us in a few weeks. I know she’s your personal favorite, but Miranda is more than happy to serve you.”

Both Miranda the substitute bartender and Simmons the restaurant owner recoiled before Robert realized he was snarling at them. “Tell me where she is. Now.”

“Dr. Wyatt, I’m sorry but—”

Before he was aware of what he was doing, Robert had reached across the bar and took hold of Simmons’s tie.

Robert could hear Landon Wyatt shouting, No one says no to a Wyatt, in his mind.

Or maybe he hadn’t heard the words. Maybe he’d said them out loud because Miranda squeaked in alarm.

“You,” he said to the woman, “can go.”

He didn’t have to tell her twice.

“Dr. Wyatt,” Simmons said. “This is all a misunderstanding.”

Belatedly, he realized he was probably not making the best argument. Abruptly, he released Simmons’s tie. Robert realized he had overlooked the path of least resistance. Instead of allowing his temper to get the better of him, he should’ve started from a different negotiating position.

“How much?”

“What?” Simmons winced.

“How much?” Robert repeated. “I have frightened you and your employees, which wasn’t my intent. I like coming here. I would like to return, once Jeannie is back in her position. I would like to...to make amends.”

Which was as close as possible to apologizing without actually apologizing because Wyatts did not apologize.

Ever.

Simmons stared at him, mouth agape.

“Shall we say...” Robert picked a number out of thin air. “Ten thousand?”

“Dollars?” Simmons gasped.

“Twenty thousand. Dollars,” he added for clarity’s sake. Everyone had a price, after all.

Jeannie was in trouble and he had to help her. But to do that, he had to know where she was. If Simmons refused to take the bribe, Robert had other ways of tracking her down, but those would take more time. Time was one commodity he couldn’t buy.

The buzzing in his head was so loud that it drowned out the hum of the restaurant. He gritted his teeth and blocked it out.

Simmons pulled his pocket square out and dabbed at his forehead. “Do you realize how many laws you’re asking me to break?”

“Do you realize how little I care?” Wyatt shot back.

When it came to things like abuse or murder, Wyatt knew and respected the law. When it came to things like this? Well, he was a Wyatt. Money talked.

Simmons knew it, too. “Do I have your word that you won’t hurt her?”

“I won’t even touch her.” Not unless she wants me to.

The thought crossed his mind before he was aware it was there, but he shook it away.

Simmons seemed to deflate. “There was a family emergency.”

The longer this man stood around hemming and hawing, the worse things could be for Jeannie. Belatedly, Robert realized he did not have twenty thousand dollars in cash on him. He placed a credit card on the bar. “Run it for whatever you want.”

After only a moment’s hesitation, Simmons took the card. “Let me get you the address, Dr. Wyatt.”

About damn time.

Three

Jeannie all but collapsed onto the concrete step in front of Nicole’s house, too numb to even weep.

No, that was wrong. This was her house now.

Nicole was dead.

And since there were no other living family members, Jeannie had inherited what Nicole had owned. Including their childhood home.

Everything left was hers now. The sensible used family sedan. The huge past-due bills to fertility clinics. The cost of burying her sister.

The baby.

It was too much.

Death was bad enough because it had taken Nicole, leaving Jeannie with nothing but wispy memories of a happy family. But who knew dying was so complicated? And expensive? Who knew unraveling a life would involve so much damned paperwork?

That didn’t even account for Melissa. That baby girl was days old. It wasn’t right that she would never know her mother. It wasn’t right that the family Nicole had wanted for so long...

Jeannie scrubbed at her face. It wasn’t Melissa’s fault that delivery had been complicated or that Nicole had developed a blood clot that had gone undiagnosed until it was too late. Dimly, Jeannie knew she needed to sue the hospital. This wasn’t the 1800s. Women weren’t supposed to die giving birth. But Jeannie couldn’t face the prospect of more paperwork, of more responsibilities. She could barely face the next ten minutes.

She looked up at the sky, hoping to find a star to guide her. One little twinkling bit of hope. But this was Chicago. The city’s light pollution was brighter than any star, and all that was left was a blank sky with a reddish haze coloring everything. Including her world.

She was supposed to be at work. She was supposed to be fixing the perfect Manhattan for the perfect Dr. Robert Wyatt, the man whose tipping habits had made her feel financially secure for the first time in her life. A hundred bucks a night, five nights a week, for almost three years—Dr. Robert Wyatt had single-handedly given Jeannie the room to breathe. To dream of her own place, her own rules...

Of course, now that she had an infant to care for and a mortgage and bills to settle, she couldn’t breathe. She’d be lucky if her job at Trenton’s was still there when she was able to go back. If she would be able to go back. Julian might hold her job for another week or so, but Jeannie knew he wouldn’t hold it for two months. Because after an initial search of newborn childcare in Chicago, she knew that was what she’d need. Jeannie had found only day care that accepted six-week-old babies, but the price was so far out of reach that all she’d been able to do was laugh and close the browser. If she wanted childcare before Melissa was two months old, she needed a lot of money. And that was something she simply didn’t have. Even if she sued the hospital, put the house on the market, sold the family sedan—it still wouldn’t be enough fast enough.

Even though there were no stars to see, she stared hard at that red sky. This time she caught a flicker of light high overhead. It was probably just an airplane, but she couldn’t risk it. She closed her eyes and whispered to herself, “Star light, star bright, grant me the wish I wish tonight.”

She couldn’t wish Nicole back. She couldn’t undo any of the loss or the pain that had marked Jeannie’s life so far. Looking back was a trap, one she couldn’t get stuck in. She had no choice but to keep moving forward.

“I need help,” she whispered.

Financial assistance, baby help, emotional support—you name it, she needed it.

There was a moment of blissful silence—no horns honking in the distance, no neighbors shouting, not even the roar of an airplane overhead.

But if Jeannie was hoping for an answer to her prayers, she didn’t get it because that was when the small sound of Melissa starting to cry broke the quiet.

Sucking in a ragged breath, Jeannie dropped her head into her hands. She needed just a few more seconds to think but...

The baby didn’t sleep.

Was that because Jeannie wasn’t Nicole? Or was Melissa sick? Could Jeannie risk the cost of taking Melissa to the emergency room? Or...there was a pediatrician who’d stopped at the hospital before Melissa was discharged. But it was almost ten at night. If anyone answered the phone, they’d probably tell her to head to the ER.

The only person she knew who knew anything at all about small children was Dr. Wyatt, but it wasn’t like she could ask him for advice about a fussy newborn. He was a surgeon, not a baby whisperer.

Jeannie had helped organize a shower for Nicole with some of Nicole’s teacher friends and she had picked out some cute onesies. That was the sum total of Jeannie’s knowledge about newborns. She wasn’t sure she was even doing diapers right.

“Please,” she whispered as Melissa’s cries grew more agitated, although she knew there would be no salvation. All she could do was what she had always done—one foot in front of the other.

Jeannie couldn’t fail that baby girl or her sister. But more than that, she couldn’t give up on this family. She and Nicole had just started again. It felt particularly cruel to have that stolen so soon.

A car door slammed close enough that Jeannie glanced up. And looked again. A long black limo was blocking traffic in the middle of the street directly in front of the house. A short man wearing a uniform, complete with a matching hat, was opening the back door. He stood to the side and a man emerged from the back seat.

Not just any man.

Oh, God, Dr. Robert Wyatt was here. Her best, favorite customer. All she could do was gape as his long legs closed the distance between them.

“Are you all right?” he demanded, coming to a halt in front of her.

She had to lean so far back to stare at him that she almost lost her balance. He blocked out the night sky and her whole world narrowed to just him.

Yeah, she was a little unbalanced right now. “What are you doing here?”

Because he couldn’t be here. She looked like hell warmed over twice, and the shirt she was wearing had stains that she didn’t want to think about and she was a wreck.

He couldn’t be here.

He was.

He stared at her with an intensity that had taken her months to get used to. “Are you all right?”

It wasn’t a question. It was an order.

Jeannie scrambled to her feet. Even looking him in the eye, it still felt like he loomed over her. “I’m fine,” she lied because what was she supposed to say?

She liked him as a customer. He was a gorgeous man, a great tipper—and he had never made her feel uncomfortable or objectified. Aside from that phantom touch of his hand brushing against hers—which could’ve been entirely accidental—they’d never done anything together beyond devise the perfect Manhattan. That was it.

And now he’d followed her to Nicole’s house.

The man standing in front of her looked like he would take on the world if she asked him to.

His brow furrowed. “If everything’s fine, why aren’t you at work?”

“Is that why you’re here?”

“You promised you’d be back today and you weren’t. Tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it.”

She blinked. Had she actually wished upon a star? One with magical wish-granting powers?

“You can’t fix this.” It didn’t matter how brilliant a surgeon he was, he couldn’t help Nicole. No one could.

“Yes, I can,” he growled.

He growled! At her! Then he climbed the first step. “I need you to be there, Jeannie.” He took another step up, another step closer to her. “I need...”

“Robert.” Without thinking, she put her hand on his chest because she couldn’t let him get any closer.

She felt his muscles tense under her palm. It was a mistake, touching him. That phantom contact a week ago in the bar? The little sparks she’d felt then were nothing compared to the electricity that arced between them now. He was hot to the touch and everything had gone to hell, but he was here.

He’d come for her.

He looked down to where she was touching him and she followed his gaze. He wasn’t wearing a tie, which was odd. He always wore one. She stared at the little triangle of skin revealed by his unbuttoned collar.

Then his fingertips were against her cheek and she gasped, a shiver racing down her back. “Jeannie,” he whispered, lifting her chin until she had no choice but to look him in the eye. His eyes, normally so icy, were warm and promised wonderful things. His head began to dip. “I need...”

He was going to kiss her. He was going to press his perfect mouth against hers and she was going to let him because she could get lost in this man.

Just as she felt his warmth against her lips, Melissa’s cries intruded into the silence that surrounded them.

“Oh! The baby!” Jeannie hurried into the house.

“The baby?” he called after her.

How much time had passed since Robert had emerged from the back of that sleek limo? Could have been seconds but it could’ve just as easily been minutes. Minutes where she’d left Melissa alone.

By the time she got back to the baby’s room, Melissa was red in the face, her little body rigid, her arms waving. Was that normal? Or was Melissa in pain? Or...

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jeannie said as she nervously picked the baby up, trying to support her head like the nurse had shown her. She was pretty sure she wasn’t doing it right because Melissa cried harder. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.” Sorry Nicole wasn’t here, sorry Jeannie couldn’t figure out the problem, much less how to fix it. “What’s wrong, sweetie?” As if the baby could tell her.

Melissa howled and Jeannie couldn’t stop her own tears. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing this last part of her family.

“Here,” a deep voice said as the baby was plucked out of Jeannie’s arms. “Let me.”

She blinked a few times, but in her current state of exhaustion what she saw didn’t make a lot of sense.

Dr. Robert Wyatt, one of the Top Five Billionaire Bachelors of Chicago, a man so remote and icy it’d taken Jeannie years to get comfortable with his intense silences—that man was laying Melissa out on the changing pad, saying, “What seems to be the problem?” as if the baby could tell him.

“What...” Jeannie blinked again but the image didn’t change. “What are you doing?”

Instead of answering, Robert pulled out his cell. “Reginald? Bring my kit in.”

“Your kit?”

He didn’t explain. “How old is this infant? Eight days?”

She wasn’t even surprised he hadn’t answered her question, much less come within a day of guessing Melissa’s age. “Nine. Nicole, my sister, went into labor right after I last saw you.” She tried to say the rest of it but suddenly she couldn’t breathe.

Robert made a gentle humming noise. The baby blinked up at him in confusion, a momentary break in her crying. “What was her Apgar score?”

“Her what?”

Who the hell was this man? The Dr. Wyatt she knew didn’t make gentle humming noises that calmed babies. There was nothing gentle about him!

Robert had Melissa down to her diaper. The poor baby began to wail again. He made a tsking noise. “Where is the mother?”

Jeannie choked on a sob. “She’s...” No, that wasn’t right. Present tense no longer applied to Nicole. “She developed blood clots and...”

Robert’s back stiffened. “The father?”

“Sperm donor.”

He made that humming noise again. Just then the doorbell rang and Melissa howled all the louder and Jeannie wanted to burrow into Robert’s arms and pretend the last week had been a horrible dream. But she didn’t get the chance because he said, “My kit—can you bring it to me, please?”