Christmas Baby For The Billionaire. DONNA ALWARD

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       CHAPTER FOUR

      TORI TRIED TO quell the thrill that slid through her as Jeremy took her hand and promised to be there for her and their child. He was a tough man to resist at any time, but right now, with her hand in his, and the knowledge that he was a freaking billionaire swimming through her brain, she was quite overwhelmed.

      She didn’t care that he had bags of money. It wasn’t that. It was just that she’d never met anyone quite this rich before. She certainly hadn’t known last summer. It shouldn’t change him in her eyes, but it did. He was so out of her league.

      Not as a person; she knew that money and character were two very different things. But in worldly ways, he was on a whole other plane of existence.

      “I don’t know what to say,” she responded, biting down on her lip. “I had no idea that… Well, Jeremy.” She let out a big breath. “I’ll make you a promise in return. I promise that I will never exploit the fact that you have money. I don’t want us to use money against each other, you know? Either how much we have or the lack of it.”

      “Me, either. I want us to figure this out in a way that’s best for our baby.”

      “You really do believe everything, don’t you? About it being yours and everything?”

      He let out a sigh. “I didn’t react so well when I saw you were pregnant. But yes, I believe you.”

      “When the baby is born we can do a DNA test. I wasn’t going to do an amnio if I could avoid it. The idea freaks me out.”

      “A what?”

      “An amniocentesis. It’s a test where they insert this needle and withdraw a bit of the amniotic fluid—”

      He shuddered. “Ouch, and gross.”

      She laughed. “Yeah. And there are some risks involved. I didn’t want to take any chances.”

      “So you really do want the baby.”

      She nodded. “I do. It wasn’t planned, but I… I don’t have much family. And I like children, a lot.”

      Her clock hadn’t really begun ticking yet, not at twenty-eight, but she couldn’t lie. She’d been starting to think about a family the last few years. This pregnancy was inconvenient and a shock, yes. But also a blessing.

      “I’m not close to mine, as you might have gathered.” He took a long pull of his beer and pursed his lips. “I’m closest to my sister, and we both live in New York so we see each other most of anyone. But my brother… He’s on his third marriage already and does his own thing.”

      “And your mom?”

      “She’s still at the family home in Connecticut. Married to my stepfather. Socializing with the right people, that sort of thing. My dad left and she got the house. Not much else, but we all had our trust funds and she married again within a few years. She made sure she was looked after.”

      There was a bitterness in his voice he couldn’t disguise, and Tori wondered about the little boy he must have been. “I take it she wasn’t the nurturing type?”

      He laughed—a short, mocking sound. “Not an ounce,” he replied, then drained his beer glass. He got up, went to the minibar, and took out a bottle of Cape Breton whiskey, adding a significant splash to a highball glass. He swirled it for a moment before turning and looking at her. “My mom was a social climber. I didn’t know it then, but I know it now. I see the type. And when Dad left, she lost her ticket. She would have had to sell the house and finish bringing us up on her own. Instead she married Bruce, and since she came with the house, he brought the rest of his money and status was restored. Some investments on her part paid for our college. Bruce, apparently, was more than happy to pay my four years of tuition to boarding school. I wasn’t really home after I finished eighth grade.”

      He downed the whiskey in one gulp, and poured another.

      She sat quietly. First of all, clearly the topic was painful to him, because he was fortifying himself with alcohol. And secondly, as much as his words were delivered in a factual, who-gives-a-care way, she could tell that the lack of affection had left its mark on him.

      Tori couldn’t imagine not loving your own child, or considering them in the way. Or sending them away, at such a difficult age.

      “Where did you go?”

      “Merrick Hall, an all-boys school in Connecticut. Very Dead Poets Society with old buildings and rituals and dormitories. Top-notch learning, though.” He must have seen her alarmed look because he attempted a smile and went to her. “It was fine, really,” he assured her. “I belonged there. I met my best friends there. And despite my cold family, I do have some really great friends.”

      Tori let out a breath. “Oh, of course you do. But now I understand your reluctance. Do you still see your mother? Your stepfather?”

      He nodded. “Now and again. Despite everything, she is my mother.”

      Tori was glad. Estrangement could be such a horrible thing.

      “So now you know what I didn’t want to talk about over lunch.” He sipped at his drink this time, to her relief. “I don’t know what kind of father I’ll make. But I promise to try. Any kid of mine is going to feel wanted and loved. Not in the way.”