Larenzo's Christmas Baby. Кейт Хьюит

to his brother he waxed poetic about his new fiancée and their upcoming wedding.

      Happily ever after isn’t for everyone, and it certainly isn’t for me. Nicco didn’t do relationships, and rarely saw the same woman twice, but he was willing to make an exception for Jariah-Curves-Galore-Brooks. One night with the saucy beauty wouldn’t be enough. He’d need a week with her, shoot, maybe even two or three.

      Nicco couldn’t think straight. It was hard for him to stay present in the moment. He felt unsteady on his feet, as if he’d been smacked upside the head by a Roger Clemons fastball. This had never happened to him before. Ever. No one had ever affected him like this. Over the years he’d hooked up with a wide assortment of red-carpet darlings, but Jariah Brooks was the first and only woman to ever take his breath away.

      His heart roared like the engine of his Harley Davidson, and when Jariah moistened her lips with her tongue, Nicco strangled a groan. I don’t know how much more of this I can take, he thought, raking a hand through his short, curly hair.

      “Mommy!”

      Nicco felt someone bump the back of his legs and a cold liquid splash onto his sandals. A chubby, wide-eyed girl with pigtails jumped into Jariah’s arms and giggled with delight. Her hands swung wildly, and every time she moved her drink splashed onto him.

      Stepping back, Nicco snatched a wad of napkins off the breakfast counter along the front window and dabbed at the front of his black V-neck T-shirt.

      “Mommy, can we go to the beach? Please? Pretty please?” the girl whined, tugging on her mother’s tank top. “I promise to be a good listener.”

      “Not today, Ava. You have a dentist appointment at ten forty-five.”

      The girl stamped her foot. “But I don’t want to go to the stinky dentist. I want to go to the beach! You promised I could go swimming!”

      Intrigued by the exchange, Nicco glanced up. The little girl was the splitting image of Jariah. Mother and daughter shared the same dark brown complexion, wide, expressive eyes, and delicate button nose. A tanned, stocky man joined them, and kissed Jariah on each cheek. He wore a lopsided smile, and was so smitten with the fitness instructor he had stars in his eyes.

      Feeling dumb for hitting on her, Nicco mentally berated himself for publicly making a fool of himself. He watched the trio exit the café, and as Jariah strode past the front window, hand-in-hand with her daughter, their eyes met. She caught him staring at her—again—but this time Nicco didn’t flash his trademark grin. There was nothing to smile about. Jariah had a kid, and at least two men in her life. And since children and drama were a turn-off Nicco tore his gaze away from her pretty face and studied his diamond Montblanc wristwatch instead.

      Nicco dumped his napkins in the garbage. He had to hurry or he’d be late. He had an eleven o’clock meeting with the head of his security team, Gerald Stanley, and was anxious to hear if the former navy SEAL had garnered any new information about the break-in at his downtown restaurant. The perpetrators had caused thousands of dollars’ worth of damage, but two months later the police still had no leads. He suspected deep in his gut that his ex-assistant, Gracie O’Connor, was involved, but he wasn’t ready to share his thoughts with anyone. He was going to handle it his way, and no one was going to stop him—not even his brothers.

      How had things come to this? How had things gone so bad, so quickly? Nicco wondered, expelling a deep, troubled breath. A year ago, he’d been on top of the world, living the good life, but the day before his thirty-fourth birthday his whole world had fallen apart. Twelve months later, he was still picking up the pieces.

      Slipping on his aviator sunglasses, he strode purposefully through the café doors. Outside, at the intersection of Ocean Drive and First Street, Nicco spotted Jariah and her daughter. The little girl was cute, every bit as beautiful as her mother, and Nicco couldn’t help thinking what a great-looking family they were.

      Nicco shook his head, dismissed the unsolicited thought that rose in his mind. Jariah Brooks is a stunner, but I definitely dodged a bullet there. Kids weren’t his thing, but playing the field definitely was, and as soon as he finished his workday he was making a move on the full-figured brunette at his favorite spa. The masseuse wasn’t as witty as Jariah Brooks was, but she was the ready, willing, down-for-whatever-in-the-bedroom type, and tonight, that was all that mattered to Nicco Morretti.

Chapter 2

      Jariah sat at the conference room table inside Morretti Inc. mentally preparing for her interview. Her heart was beating so loud and fast she feared she would collapse. As Jariah waited for the Human Resources Director to arrive, she straightened her dress and assessed her look. Jariah was excited about the account manager position, but worried her nerves would get the best of her and she’d trip all over her words.

      Glancing around the conference room, she took in the tasteful paintings, the leafy plants positioned beside the window and the low-hanging lights. I have to nail this interview. I need this job and the salary even more. Jariah had been out of work for months, and pounding the pavement had yet to produce any results. Teaching aerobic classes at Premier Fitness was great fun, and she loved seeing her students’ progress each week, but the paycheck just wasn’t cutting it. Her bills were piling up, and Jariah feared if she didn’t land a full-time position soon she’d have to dip into her emergency fund.

      And what will I do once that runs out? Jariah told herself not to imagine the worst possible scenario—the one with her losing her home and crawling back to her ex-fiancé. It didn’t matter what Wesley said. She would make it without him, and when she did, she’d finally be able to give her daughter, Ava, the life she’d always dreamed of. And she didn’t need Wesley or anyone else to help make it happen.

      Turning her face toward the window, she closed her eyes and allowed the sunshine raining down from the morning sky to calm her fears. Jariah felt herself relax, felt the tension radiating through her cold, chilled body recede. Hearing her cell phone vibrate from inside her purse, Jariah slid a hand into the side pocket and took out her BlackBerry. Jariah had three new text messages from Wesley, and each one was more annoying than the last. He was furious that she had refused to get back together with him. So he’d been blowing up her phone for weeks, his cruel taunts only proved how immature he was.

      Switching off her cell phone, she dropped it inside her purse, and sat back comfortably in her leather wingback chair. Jariah was sick of Wesley’s superior, know-it-all attitude and she refused to take any of his calls.

      Wesley Covington, the twenty-nine-year-old chief administrative deputy making waves from Orange County to Capitol Hill, was not only the father of her daughter, but an overgrown child himself. The Ivy League graduate had the power to ruin a perfectly good day, and as Jariah thought about the messages he’d sent her, she wondered for the umpteenth time what she’d ever seen in the privileged mama’s boy.

      Why can’t I meet a nice guy? Jariah wondered, releasing a troubled sigh. Someone sweet, chivalrous and romantic, who was good with kids. Hoping the man upstairs was listening, she stared up at the ceiling pitifully, as if that would seal the deal. A little chemistry would be nice, too, she thought with a fervent nod of her head. Since calling it quits with Wesley eight months ago, Jariah had been on dozens of dates but none of the guys she met excited her.

      A picture of a tall, gorgeous guy with intense eyes and curly hair sprang in her mind. As Jariah sat there, thinking about the hottie who’d approached her at Javalicious on Friday, she inwardly chastised herself for not giving him her phone number. Why? her inner voice questioned. He’s a player who’s probably bedded more women than Hugh Hefner!

      Hearing a sharp knock on the door, she shot to her feet and adjusted her Donna Karen dress. The door opened, and Jariah stood there, dumbfounded. Her lips parted, but nothing came out. What the hell? What is he doing here? It was the guy from Javalicious. The one who’d hit on her, and probably every other woman in the popular café. On Friday, he’d looked handsome in his casual T-shirt and khaki pants, but today he looked like a Hugo Boss model fresh off the runway. Clean-cut,