Maestro's Muse E-Book

Scarlett Finn

• Herausgeber: Moriona Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Jaycee Kirk is desperate.

So when she gets an offer to make a shitload of money, she can't ignore her curiosity.

Beckett Trent is damn sure he doesn't want a wife. The reclusive artist has to maintain his anonymity, but that makes it tough for him to have the one thing he wants more than anything else: a child.

Jaycee can give him what he needs without complications; the last thing she wants to be is a mother. But the money? She can't refuse that.
When she says yes, Beck believes his simple dream can become a reality. That is until she steps into his studio.

There in that private space, the lines between life and art blur and simple becomes an abstract concept.


Warning: Contains explicit language and imagery. Suitable only for ages 18 and over.


**HEA STANDALONE**

KEYWORDS: Steamy, hot, slowburn, contemporary surrogacy romance, alpha artist maestro, inspired by muse, colleagues, workplace romance, obsessive forbidden love, secret romance, passion, desire, flamin’ hot, sexual chemistry, wealthy single father requires surrogate to fulfill dream of having children, insemination pregnancy, independent heroine, female protagonist, hidden identity hero, strong, security, bouncer, bodyguard, artist, dual identity, addicted to each other, codependent, obsession with each other, true passion, forever love, mature, 18+, heroine driven, opposites attract, affair, obsessive love, forbidden love, emotional, kissing books, slow burn, HEA, Happily ever after, twins, pregnant, wealthy hero, addiction, inspiration, muse, maestro's, maestro, codependent, addicted to love, sexy, family, love, love books, emotional journey, strong heroine, captivating romance, mesmerizing, sparks, sexual chemistry, chemistry, loyalty, swoon, protective, possessive, jealous, jealousy, romance, romantic, heartwarming, heart-warming, sassy, hot, hot romance, co-workers, workplace romance, colleagues, single father.

Leseprobe

Copyright © 2017 Scarlett Finn

Published by Moriona Press 2017

All rights reserved.

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

First published in 2017

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form on by an electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Original cover by Najla Qamber Designs

www.najlaqamberdesigns.com

www.scarlettfinn.com

For other titles from Scarlett Finn, please read on after the story.

Click here if you’d like to leave a message for Scarlett.

Enjoy!

for my boy

Contents

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-FOUR

TWENTY-FIVE

TWENTY-SIX

TWENTY-SEVEN

TWENTY-EIGHT

TWENTY-NINE

THIRTY

THIRTY-ONE

THIRTY-TWO

THIRTY-THREE

THIRTY-FOUR

THIRTY-FIVE

ONE

“You’re really counting every cent there, Jaycee Kirk.”

Glancing over her shoulder, Jaycee saw Guy, one of the basement-bar bouncers, coming up beside her. With her tips spread out on the surface of the bar, she was sorting them into their denominations without shame. Yeah, he was right, every single cent was important.

The AD, also known as the Artists’ Dungeon, was a dark, but intimate space lit by yellow fairy lights and flickering candles. The walls were a tapestry of art created by those who graced this little-known establishment with their presence. Anything went, as long as patrons added respectfully or found their own virgin space.

Once in a while, photographs would be taken and anything that could be removed would be kept. Then the walls were painted or papered and everyone started again. She’d been told that happened once every few years. Jaycee hadn’t been around long enough to see it for herself.

The bouncer, Guy Smith, turned his back to the bar and hooked his elbows on it to scan the room. It was after closing, so the servers were bussing tables and cleaning up. Her job as the lounge singer meant she was exempt from putting the place back together. Guy was supposed to be on the door making sure customers got out of the building and into cabs. Apparently, he wasn’t in the mood to do his job tonight.

Except she’d been counting her tips for quite a while, so when she perused the room, all she saw were vacant seats and empty glasses. When the customers were here, everyone sat so low that they may as well be on the floor. The couches didn’t have feet and the tables were only knee-high. There were beanbags and customized armchairs, nothing matched, but the décor added to the cozy, though sometimes pretentious, atmosphere of the place.

Tips were good and she was allowed to make her own hours, so Jaycee liked it here. If she wanted to come early and hope for more tips, she could, and if she needed to duck out before closing, no one gave her shit. This was the best place to work to supplement her daytime work as a masseuse.

The first thought she had in response to Guy’s statement was, ‘Just trying to figure out if I’ll be able to eat this week.’ Jaycee didn’t say that, of course, she just folded the bills and tucked them into her wallet before scooping up the coins to add them in. “Can I help you with something, Guy?”

“Need me to walk you home?”

“Nope,” she said. “I’m crashing at Pete’s tonight.”

The way his lips pushed out in amusement betrayed he was hiding a smile, though he wasn’t doing a good job of it. “Sure you are.”

“What is that look?” she asked, swatting his elbow with the back of her hand.

“You and Petey… you know…”

“Uh, no,” she said. Facing him, Jaycee rested her side against the bar and folded her arms. “There’s no me and Petey… I don’t even call him Petey… maybe there’s something between you and Petey.”

“Maybe,” he said, keeping his eyes on the room. “Maybe that’s why I’m over here, sniffing out the competition.”

Joking or not, she reassured him with sass. “Well, honey, don’t you worry,” she said, leaning in. “I’ll be sleeping on the couch, so there will be plenty of space next to Pete in his big bed. I swear, I won’t repeat anything I hear.” Crossing her heart, Jaycee picked up her purse and slung the strap across her body.

“Maybe we’re thinking about sharing a feline sandwich,” he said, stopping her before she moved away.

“A feli… Oh, that’s funny, Guy. You’re a funny guy, anyone ever tell you that before?”

He pondered her question for less than a second. “Not really what people say about me, girl, no.”

Backing toward the door, she shook her head and waited for him to smile, but he was scrutinizing her, peering at her like he was a creep or she was a weirdo. Whatever, she wasn’t interested in figuring him out.

Leaving like she’d planned to, Jaycee didn’t give much more thought to the peculiar bouncer. When she’d had her apartment up the block, sometimes she’d gotten one of the guys to walk her home, especially if there were rowdy customers around. But she’d lost her place, she’d been evicted, and was couch surfing at the moment, relying on colleagues and clients’ kindness. She’d find something, soon… Something cheap, hopefully sooner rather than later.

Wondering again about Guy’s odd look, she decided she shouldn’t spend much time trying to decode it. Having only worked at AD for about a year, Jaycee was one of the newer staff members, Guy had been around when she started. They chatted like colleagues did, but it wasn’t like they spent time together. Jaycee wouldn’t consider him a friend, but she wouldn’t cross the street to avoid him either. He was just… there. As far as she was concerned, he could keep being there, in the periphery, as long as that was where he stayed.

Jaycee caught Guy doing the staring thing ten times over the next two weeks. It went from creeping her out, to irritating her, to amusing her, to just plain pissing her off.

Guy was known for keeping to himself, not saying much, just doing what needed to be done and going home. So why was he suddenly preoccupied with staring at her like he was trying to read her mind?

One of the nights she had to leave AD early, Jaycee moved through the crowd of drunken patrons and squeezed into the narrow stairwell to run up to the entrance. At the start of the evening, bouncers would be outside checking people, but as the night progressed, they would go down into the bar to mosey around keeping look out for trouble.

Closing was still an hour away and there was one bouncer standing just inside the entrance on sentry duty. And tonight, that guy was Guy.

Leaning against the wall with a foot propped against it, he was examining the latest piece of art on the wall opposite his position; a scribble that she hadn’t had the time to look at herself. At least, it looked like he was looking at it, but he could just be staring in that general direction, gazing into oblivion.

Guy was built of lean muscle, quick and capable. She’d seen him take big guys down faster than a lot of the bulky bouncers employed at AD. Apparently, Guy was the resident arm-wrestling champion too, not that she ever hung around afterhours to see what the others got up to. Jaycee always had an early day and valued her sleep. Her partying days were long gone.

“I half expected to see you drawing moustaches and glasses on the figures,” she said when she got to the top of the stairs to see that he was indeed looking at an impromptu group portrait, an artist’s idea of a selfie.

“Got a pen?” he asked.

Guy didn’t come across as the type of person who’d know anything about art or have much of a creative bone in his body. But she’d never really considered what his day job might be. Everyone who worked here had a day job. Unfortunately, that was why it was called the Dungeon. This was the place for tortured, persecuted artists, who believed in their art, but failed to earn a living with it.

“Excuse me,” she said, trying to exit.

The doorway itself was barely big enough for one person to walk through, let alone anyone trying to get past a guy resting his shoulders on the wall with his hips a foot from it. Guy put his propped foot on the floor and stood straight to give her some more space, though she still had to turn to the side to fit between him and the doorframe.

But when her face aligned with his chest, Jaycee stopped. “Something up?” he asked. “You want me to walk you back to your place?”

He was supposed to be on shift, not wandering the streets with women. Not that it mattered, that wasn’t why she’d hesitated. Since they had this private moment, Jaycee figured she should take advantage of it.

“Why do you keep staring at me?” she asked, forcing herself to look up. The intensity of his eyes made her breath catch in the back of her throat, but she was used to brooding and severe around here, so she recovered from their influence fast. “Honestly, I work here a whole year and we say ten words to each other, then suddenly in the last two weeks it’s like I’m the latest Beckett Trent.”

His brows quirked just a millimeter. “You like Beckett Trent?”

What a prick, was he laughing at her? Yeah, as far as he was concerned, she was a dumb singer, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate beauty. “His earlier stuff, sure,” she said. “I think he lost his vision with his latest piece.”

Guy scowled at her. “What the hell do you know?”

Prodding his chest, she was momentarily surprised to feel how solid his pec was beneath his shirt, but now wasn’t the time to notice his body, she was pissed. “I know you keep staring at me and I’m telling you to stop it. You are not getting into my panties. I’ll say it again, slow, ‘cause I know sometimes meatheads only hear every other word. You’re. Not. Getting. Laid… Sex. Jaycee. Guy. Absolutely. Definitely. Not. Happening.”

The humor in his eyes didn’t turn his mouth, but it riled her. “Every other word, right, uh… You’re getting sex, Guy. Definitely happening.”

“What?” she asked, realizing just what she’d said to him when he picked out every other word. “You… I…”

When he patted her arm, he kind of looked pleased, but it was tough to tell what the condescending gesture was meant to convey, other than his irritating arrogance. “Don’t worry, girl. I promise I’m not interested in sleeping with you. Actually… you just said exactly the right thing.”

“What the hell?”

“Do you know the warehouse by the river on Bank?”

Should she? What kind of question was that? Folding her arms, Jaycee accidently brushed his torso, but she wasn’t going to let him know she even noticed the contact, so didn’t retreat. This guy was a piece of work. First, he laughed at her, questioned her knowledge, then pretended his creepiness was innocent.

“No,” she said, “no, Guy, I don’t know any fucking warehouse on the river. I’m not a fucking hooker, do you think I hang around on the docks looking for sailors on leave?”

His eyes tapered as his head tilted. “Do you curse a lot?”

“What are you my mother now? Does that make me less attractive? Fuck. Shit. Balls. Bullshit. Crappy. Cunty. Bastarding. Asshole…”

Feeling triumphant, she was about to stalk off when his head tilted further. “I don’t think balls is a curse word,” he said.

“Context!” she said, clenching her fists at her side. “It’s all about context! And what do you know anyway, did you go to Harvard or something?”

“Do they have a curse class at Harvard? Damn, I’ll have to look that shit up.”

Offense made her mouth open. “Oh, so you can swear, but I can’t?”

Why did he seem to be enjoying this? “Just trying to put you at ease, girl.”

“Stop calling me girl,” she said. Why was her blood pressure rising? Damn. She had to be more stressed than she realized if she was letting this random person get under her skin. In truth, she didn’t usually swear this much at all. “It’s insulting.”

“You just called me a fucking, cunty, bastardy, whatever you said.”

“You don’t remember that but you can recite every other word when I mention sex?”

He shrugged and folded his arms over his chest. Wow, those arms were big, Jaycee wondered if it would be possible to fit both hands around just one of his upper arms. “I’m a guy.”

“You just said you didn’t want sex!” she said. “Why would you notice a woman who you don’t want to have sex with mentioning sex?”

“You just said the word sex three times in the same sentence,” he said and dipped a fraction closer. “Can you repeat the question without using that word? Makes it difficult for meatheads to concentrate when you say it over and over.”

“It was two sentences, jerk-off,” she said and lost her train of thought when he breathed in deep, making his chest expand. “Wh… What was I saying?”

“Something about jerking off,” he said.

It was getting tough not to slug this bastard right across that stubble-roughened jaw of his. “You’re the jerk-off, Guy. Stop being a perv.”

One corner of his mouth quirked. “A perv? You think I’m checking out your tits or something?” he asked and did her the courtesy of not snickering aloud as he drew his eyes off her cleavage. “You’ve seen Halle, right? G-cup, that’s what you’re competing with in the bra department down there, girl. Yours are cute, but…”

When Jaycee squeaked and slapped her hand to her cleavage, he took his fed-up eyes toward the door. Was she boring him? Halle’s boobs were super-enhanced because she wanted to model… glamor model, playboy model, but yeah… The server was the most beautiful woman Jaycee had seen in her whole life, living, dead, real, fictional, didn’t matter. Even she’d struggle to say no if Halle tried to seduce her, any human would be powerless to resist that body.

Jaycee shuffled another step to the side and couldn’t even remember why the hell she was still standing here. “Now your ass on the other hand…”

His deep voice stopped her and she lifted her glare to him. “What about my ass?”

She didn’t see anyone coming in, but he hooked an arm around her neck and stood up straight to pull her against his chest. “Yep,” Guy said to someone, his voice rumbling from his chest to her face that was pressed into him.

He smelled good. Clean and warm. Like laundry detergent, male deodorant, and something… was that a solvent smell?

The moment Jaycee’s eyes closed and she realized she was breathing him in, she thrust her hands to his chest and shoved him away so hard that she stumbled against the opposite wall.

Guy’s hand shot out to steady her, to prevent her from falling down the stairs. But he didn’t have to actually touch her, and when she regained her composure, he held his hand a little further away. Paused. Then propped himself against his own wall again.

“Come down to the warehouse,” he said, gazing out the door again, either so he didn’t have to look at her or because there was something interesting going on out there. “Just whenever you’re ready.”

“For what?” she asked.

Dropping his chin, he smiled at her. “To make a shitload of money, girl.”

TWO

A shit load of money, that’s what he’d said. Jaycee didn’t even want to believe it was a genuine chance. Dangling that before her was like inviting a starving person to take a seat outside a glass-fronted restaurant to witness the full house feast.

Jaycee had a couple of affluent clients; she knew what it was like to have her face pressed against the glass and she didn’t like it. In fact, it often made her sick to see how much money these people wasted while she scraped together every cent and stretched each one to its limit.

Guy riled her, he seemed like an arrogant kind of guy, too up his own ass to give a damn about anyone else. She couldn’t believe he was being altruistic or really trying to help her out.

So Jaycee ignored the offer.

For about twenty minutes.

Long ago, she’d made a promise to someone special that she would never get involved in anything illegal. She had always stuck to that vow. It wasn’t a difficult promise to make at the time. But she’d never realized how tough life could get.

Her life had never been tougher than it was right now. She had no home. No furniture. No boyfriend to offer emotional support. No car to get her around. The notion that she might be able to afford a vehicle was ridiculous, though she kind of wished she had one because at least then she would have a roof over her head and that wasn’t guaranteed every night these days. It was getting difficult to juggle requests, to figure out which friend she could call from those she’d already begged for help many times.

Truth be told, Jaycee had called in every favor she was owed. Outstayed her welcome at every friend’s house. People were starting to avoid her. She was getting desperate.

No, desperate had passed about four months ago, now she was getting to wretched. Working every hour meant income but exhaustion.

At this point, there was little she wouldn’t consider doing to take the pressure off herself. But did she trust Guy? What if she went to the warehouse in its isolated location and found it was a crack den full of pimps with women chained to beds? That wouldn’t make her any money. It would make her pimp money.

Guy seemed like a smart guy. He was witty, if annoying. Charming, but dry. And reliable, even if he was a bit lazy. He showed up for work every shift, stayed until after she did usually, and while he wasn’t known for really mucking in, he’d never watched a person struggle and ignored them… as far as she knew anyway.

Would he risk getting a colleague involved in running drugs or arms or whatever else he might be into? She could tell everyone at AD about his criminal connections. She could go to the cops. It wasn’t like Jaycee had left him in any doubt about her feelings toward him.

Her attitude wouldn’t have suggested to him that she was one of the giggling groupies who liked to try to charm the bouncers when they were looking for a buff man to carry them home afterhours.

Their brief encounter at the top of the AD stairs had ended after his comment about money. Drawing her eyes off him, Jaycee had been surprised and suspected him of making fun of her.

It had to be common knowledge among staff that she was short of cash and in need after being seen counting her tips and asking for advances more than once. No one would like to be known as destitute, it was embarrassing, but some things took precedence over dignity. She’d learned that the hard way.

After ignoring Guy’s offer for those twenty minutes, she’d obsessed about it. Forgotten about it for another twenty minutes. And then obsessed some more.

What was the worst that could happen?

Jaycee figured that the first thing she should really do was check if this warehouse even existed. Guy might be yanking her chain and if he was, she’d put him in his place fast the next time she saw him at work. Or she’d just feign ignorance like his offer was nothing to her and she’d forgotten all about it. Either way, she had to know how to play it.

A couple of days later, when she was finished with a client who happened to live near the spot Guy had mentioned, she found herself wandering toward the river. All she was going to do was check if the building was there. No harm in that.

It was there.

As far as she could tell, the redbrick structure was three stories high. All around it was a chain link fence that was obstructed on the inside by unkempt foliage and trees. She couldn’t see anything of the lowest floor, only the highest floor was obvious, but that had no windows at all, making it tough to judge what state the building was in. The brick itself was kind of shiny, but it had rained that morning, so its superior appearance for the area could be an illusion.

Jaycee was so busy trying to see that she almost didn’t notice the gate even as she approached it. Solid and double-wide, the gate for vehicles was locked by a keypad emitting a red light. Beside it was a single gate leading to the sidewalk. Its similar lock had a red light too. Then, as she was looking at it, the red light flashed to green.

Green.

Did that mean go? Could she… go in? Should she?

When she glanced around, Jaycee couldn’t see anything that looked like a camera, so she guessed that maybe someone was about to come out. Tensing her shoulders, she considered her options. The light flashed again, went off for a second, then went green.

Guy had told her to come here. If she was caught trespassing, she could mention his name. Yeah, “Guy told me” would sound good.

Hmm.

But if there was the prospect of making money and actually putting a roof over her head again, she had to take the risk.

Grabbing the gate, she gave it a push and it popped open without any trouble. Well, she’d done it, she’d crawled into the rabbit hole, no point backing out now.

Going forward, Jaycee entered to find herself walking up a long black asphalt drive. It was so new that it shone without a speck of imperfection. Did drug dealers care about that sort of thing?

Maybe.

She doubted it.

The foliage to her right was a mess, all bare branches and exposed twigs, yeah, that was the time of year, but it was off-putting to have something so dirty and haphazard next to the sleek smooth lake of hard tar that was akin to a bed of glistening black ice.

When the building came into view, there was no obvious door. In fact, there was no door at all on the front, or on this side. Hardly any windows either, so Jaycee still didn’t know what she was walking in to.

Forging ahead, she saw that the tarmac stretched ahead of her until it met a sheer drop at the river edge where there was a dock, though she didn’t see a boat.

Turning to seek out a door, she found one in the nearest corner, and the glazed double-garage door beyond it was open. Past that was nothing but glass. What she’d assumed from the other side of the structure, was that the inside would be dark and oppressive, but it would actually be filled with brilliant light. Except with the way the sun was reflecting on the windows now, she couldn’t see anything of the inside from her angle.

Pondering whether she should knock on the actual door or just carry on to the open double door, Jaycee paused.

“Are you gonna stand out there all day? I heard it’s gonna rain.”

Was that Guy’s voice coming from inside? What the hell was he doing in a place like this? She hadn’t expected to actually find him here. She expected some shady operation that maybe he was affiliated with, she didn’t expect him to be the sponsor. What the hell was going on?

Hurrying forward, Jaycee went through the double door expecting to find a stinky, dirty car garage. Instead, she found a huge, well-furnished living space. There was a long dining table with about ten chairs around it stretching away from the garage door where she was standing, and a metal stairway running up the opposite wall.

And it was at the bottom of these stairs that she saw Guy, wiping his dirty hands on a rag. When he was done, he tucked it into the overalls that he was wearing over his legs, the arms of the garment were tied at his hips. The dark tee-shirt he wore was clean… ish, but there was something dirty swiped over the pants and on the skin of his arms.

Moving forward to get a better look, Jaycee stopped short when she noticed the vast kitchen laid out to her right. To her left was a massive living room, and she noticed the start of a hallway in the other corner of the room, perpendicular to the door under the stairs.

“Do you want coffee?” he asked and held up his hands. “If you do, I’ve gotta wash my hands properly.”

“What is that?” she asked, scowling at the black stuff smeared all over his hands.

“Oil,” he said and waved at her. “Or you can make the coffee.”

“I’ll make the coffee,” she said because she didn’t want him accidently poisoning her with that gloopy stuff.

It looked thicker than she thought oil was, but what did she know about cars? Although, she’d observed that there wasn’t a car in sight, so Jaycee had no idea what the hell he was doing with oil all over him.

Dumping her purse on the long dining table, she rounded the large wood top island with its black gloss cabinets and headed for the fancy coffee machine. Guy sat at the island, that had stools around two sides, and pointed to the cabinet above her, where she found everything she needed for the coffee.

“So are you going to tell me what this is about?” she asked after he said nothing.

“I’m still getting over the fact that you came… and how different you look in daylight.”

That was no kind of explanation. “What are you doing in a place like this?” she asked, pouring beans into the machine.

“Why did you come?”

“Idle curiosity,” she said. “Now if you’re gonna keep asking damn questions, at least answer one of mine.”

No argument. “Okay, what was your question?”

Nice to know he wasn’t paying attention. Although she tried to stay calm, she didn’t regret snapping at him. “Why am I here?” she asked and pressed the button to grind the coffee beans.

“I want you to have my baby.”

He’d just said the words as the machine roared to life, but she heard them clear as day and spun around to gape at the man who didn’t look like he was making a joke.

A coffee machine had never taken so long to grind beans and while it was screaming away, she wanted it to shut the hell up. Except after it did, and there was nothing but silence, she had nothing to say.

How did…

What the…

Oh, this was just perfect.

A burning kind of rage mixed with a manic hilarity inside her. She smiled before she shook a finger at him and let out a sharp laugh. “That…” Another laugh. “That has to be the worst pick-up line in history,” she said, abandoning the coffee machine.

“Jaycee—”

“Go to hell, Guy,” she said, storming toward him because she had to walk past him to get to the table where her purse was.

As she got within reach, he lunged out to grab her forearm. When they both looked at the contact, the first obvious thing they noticed were the black smudges he’d just put all over her skin.

Yelping, she yanked her arm away and he opened his hand in apology. “Listen, okay, I’m not kidding around, and I’m not hitting on you,” he said. “Sex couldn’t be further from what I want… I want to have a kid… but I can’t do that on my own… obviously.”

Jaycee didn’t know what to think. Surreal didn’t begin to cover this. This was a random guy she knew, a bouncer at a basement-bar who didn’t care about a damn thing. Except, he did. There wasn’t a chance in hell that she’d consider doing it, but that didn’t dampen her curiosity.

Remaining on the defensive, she wasn’t ready to relax and trust him yet but had to concede that he looked sincere. “You don’t want sex. But you want a kid… Why the hell would any woman… I don’t even know what you’re suggesting, but why would anyone do it?”

“Money, like I said to you at AD,” he said. “I’ll pay.”

The place was clean and the furniture was nice, but she’d never even seen him in a car let alone dressed in designer gear and spreading dough around. “How the fuck does someone like you pay as much as it would take for a woman to even think about going along with this? And what is it you’re actually suggesting?”

“Surrogacy,” he said and lifted a shoulder. “Sort of.”

Twisting to face her, he hooked both elbows on the kitchen island behind him and slouched, making him look even more like the regular Guy she knew, not the kind of man who’d be rich or want a child kicking around.

“Sort of?” she asked. “You want me to rent my body to you for nine months, but you don’t even know what’s involved.”

“I do know,” he said. “I’ve done research.”

Folding her arms, she had to sneer. “Into how babies are made?” she asked and shook her disapproving head at him. “You really are a pervert… Go to hell, Guy.”

“You keep saying that,” he said, rotating his stool to match her progress toward her purse. “But I’m serious.” Grabbing her purse, she started for the door. What a jerk! There was no way he was serious, just no way. This was some kind of prank and she was the punchline. “I know about your grandmother.” She stopped walking. “I know that’s why you work every minute of the day. I know you were evicted from your apartment because you couldn’t keep up with your bills… I know your grandmother’s medical bills are only going to get higher and higher the older she gets.”

How the hell…

Rage returned, but tears of… something, heated her eyes. Jaycee didn’t want this stranger knowing her deepest secrets. Didn’t want him prying into her business. Didn’t want him to know exactly how to hurt her like he just had.

“I’m managing,” she said.

“No, you’re not,” he said. “What are you going to do if she has another stroke? The care home is forty grand a year just for residency, her nursing costs are another ten grand on top of that and you haven’t even thought about what will happen if she needs to go into hospital for something… And you’re not taking care of yourself. How much use are you to her if you can’t eat? If you don’t have anywhere to sleep?”

Whirling around, Jaycee threw her purse onto the floor. “So I should consider… this? How dare you! My business is not your business! How the hell do you even know—”

“A few of us were talking at the club a few weeks ago. You always duck out early, so you missed the conversation,” he said. “Someone said something about how much you liked the idea of kids but would never have them, that got me curious.”

“Curious enough to investigate me?” she snapped. “You are unbelievable.”

“Maybe,” he said, pushing off his stool. “Your grandmother raised you, on her own. Your parents hated each other almost as much as they hated you.”

When she felt vulnerable, she lashed out. But he was giving her good reason to be mad. “What the hell is your problem?”

“I can’t have a kid on my own,” he said. “That’s my problem and I want you to help me.”

Exhaling, she shook her head. Could he really think that talking to her like this was the way to persuade her? “We don’t even know each other. Why would I even think about—”

“Because I can cover her medical costs,” he said. “Her care home costs, whatever you want… We’ll have an iron-clad contract that will spell out what we’re both liable for. You won’t be responsible for anything after the child is born. All you have to do is give me a year.”

“A year?”

He shrugged. “Less depending on how fast we conceive.”

Disbelief made her pant once. “This isn’t a real conversation,” she said and began to back away as he got closer. “There’s no way you can afford this and… why should I trust you to look after a child? My child?”

“He or she wouldn’t be your child,” he said. “You’d have no obligation to look after him or her.”

“And you could be a maniac who’s looking for an innocent soul to beat. You could be running a pedophile crime ring somewhere that—”

He stopped. “You’re right. Right now, as far as you’re concerned, I could be… But before we do anything, you’ll learn more about who I am, and you’ll see that’s not the case. I want this, Jaycee. Look at how serious I am. Just forget your anger and your bias and look at me.”

She didn’t want to admit how adamant he looked, but he really did appear to be serious. Deadly serious. And there was something else in his eyes, something almost pained, no, not pain, it was… desperation. Just a glimmer, but it was there, and she knew something about living with that kind of despair.

“Why wouldn’t you just… I don’t know… go out there and get some girl pregnant?”

Tensing, his mood shifted a little and he folded his arms suggesting he might be creeping onto the defensive himself. “It’s not as easy as that.”

“Sure, it is. You’re not that bad to look at. You just…” Her words disappeared and clarity took over, which was enough to make her smile. “You and Petey… oh my God… you’re gay!”

Putting her hands to her face she actually felt… better. Oh thank fuck for that! Now she got it, now it made sense! The poor couple were desperate to have a family of their own and she’d laughed right in his face. What a bitch!

Going to him, Jaycee wrapped her arms around his waist because she couldn’t reach to get them all the way around his neck, her eyes only lined up with his chest. He opened his arms, but didn’t return the hug, probably because of the black stuff still drying into his forearms and hands.

“I’m not gay,” he said and she froze. “If you want to think I am, that works for me, I don’t care. But… I’m not.”

Pulling back, she frowned up at him. “Then why the hell would—”

“I don’t want a relationship. I don’t want a wife. I want a family I can take care of on my own. I want to be a father. That’s it.”

There were plenty of women out there who’d have a kid and split, especially if they were paid. There was something else and it was this “something” that increased her interest. Jaycee let her arms fall from his body to fold them.

“There’s something you’re not telling me, Guy.” The gradual slope of his brows told her that she was right, but he wasn’t filling in the blanks. “You want me to have your baby, but you won’t be upfront with me?”

“Tell me you’ll do it and I’ll tell you everything, Jayc.”

So that was it. She had to plunge into the tar pit before he’d tell her the truth? No way. “You can’t say that. What if I said yes and then you told me something so shocking that I wanted to back out?”

“What you don’t know isn’t negative… to most people. And I didn’t ask you to sign anything first. Just tell me you’ll do it and your word will be enough for me. Paperwork comes later.”

Shaking her head, she had to cede her curiosity. “I can’t do it, Guy… I’m sorry this is… tough for you and I wish you all the best with it, but…”

“You’re not the mother of my child,” he said with a kind of forlorn sigh that did actually make her feel guilty.

“I’m sorry,” she said, putting a hand to his face and offering a tight smile. “I’ll see you at work. I won’t… say anything about…”

Bobbing his head, he didn’t tell her to stay quiet or say anything else. Guy just took another breath and pulled her hand away from his face, leaving another black smudge on her wrist.

“Baby oil,” he said, focusing on the stain.

“What?”

“Baby oil will get rid of the paint.”

Paint? As he turned to lumber on back up the stairs, she looked at the marks on her skin and lifted her arm to smell it. Oil paint. It wasn’t engine oil that he had all over him. It was oil paint.

A loud metallic scraping at the top of the stairs made her look up. There was a breath of a pause and then another scrape followed by a bang so loud that it startled her. Guy was gone and she was…

Jaycee didn’t even know what.

This meeting wasn’t even close to what she’d been expecting, she’d thought he was going to bring her inside on some lucrative deal that could get her locked up in jail. She’d considered the idea of a prison sentence if she signed on, but pregnancy… Oh, boy, that hadn’t even flickered on the list of possibilities.

THREE

Jaycee did see Guy at work, but he didn’t speak to her. He didn’t seem to be going out of his way to ignore her, but he didn’t reference their meeting. Things had gone back to how they were before the staring began. And she was okay with that… she thought.

The care home that her grandmother was in was good. It wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t the worst either. Jaycee had been to a few places to check them out when it became obvious that she couldn’t care for all her grandmother’s needs on her own anymore. She’d tried her best for a long time but couldn’t work and be in the apartment to look after her Grandma Mavis. Jaycee had hired care staff to be with her grandmother when she was working, but in the end, the costs and all the equipment rentals ended up being about the same as a care home was, and her grandmother had liked the idea of having friends her own age around because she’d always been a social sort.

The first stroke had scared them both, and her grandmother’s confidence took a bit of a knock. The second one was worse and Mavis Kirk spent more time in hospital after. Jaycee was still paying the bills that weren’t covered by insurance and her own insurance had lapsed long ago, she just couldn’t afford to keep paying everything.

Sitting beside her grandmother’s chair in the care home room, Jaycee was helping to cut her food. Mavis experienced weakness all down her left side, some days it was better than others, but it did lead to her wonderful grandmother having trouble with simple tasks.

“It’s a beautiful day,” Mavis said. “You should take your pastels down to the shore.”

Another downside, her grandma occasionally got confused. “I can’t draw, gamma,” she said, helping Mavis take hold of her fork. “You’re the artist in our family.”

Mavis was slow as she fed herself. Jaycee was tempted to help her and often had to stop herself from leaping in to take over. She just hated to see the woman who’d given her everything, weakening. Mavis had grown up near the beach, but there was no shore around here. Jaycee had no time to take off to the beach either; she was due at AD in less than an hour.

Some days were better than others. When Mavis was tired, the slur in her speech was much more pronounced, as were the issues she often had with memory. Sometimes she was sharp as a tack, other times, Jaycee left the room fighting tears. All she wanted to do was make everything better, just like Mavis had always done for her.

“I need…” Mavis put down her fork and lifted a shaking hand toward the plastic cup beyond the plate.

Jaycee picked it up and wrapped both of Mavis’s hands around it, keeping it secure in her own too. If Mavis spilled or dribbled, sometimes she got angry or upset and Jaycee’s heart would just break if she had to walk away from her grandmother while she was upset.

When she was finished with the drink, both women set the cup back down and Jaycee helped Mavis with the fork again. “I can’t come over tomorrow,” Jaycee said. “I have a new client, and I can’t make it over here before the bar… But I’ll come on Tuesday, I promise.”

“You work too much,” Mavis said, listening although Jaycee could see that her grandmother was concentrating hard on her food.

Her grandmother didn’t have a clue about the financial trouble they were in, and that was just the way Jaycee wanted it to stay. One day, she might have to be honest. Mavis would become a ward of the state if Jaycee couldn’t care for her anymore.

Biting her lip, she didn’t want to be the cause of her own upset. Mavis had fought so hard to make sure Jaycee didn’t become a statistic, an anonymous child in the foster system, known to authorities by a number. Her parents had abandoned her and it had been her grandmother who’d stepped in to give her love and a home.

Disappointment didn’t come close to what Jaycee would feel if she failed her grandmother by resigning her to that fate in her golden years.

“I love my work,” Jaycee said. That had been true when she was doing it for the love. Sometimes it felt like she was paddling upstream and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed… anything.

“You’ll never meet a nice man if you’re working all the time.”

Men. Jaycee had never seen her grandmother with a man; her grandfather had died before she was even born. When she was a pre-teen, she’d never really thought about it. As a teenager, she was too caught up in herself to wonder about her grandmother’s love life, plus, it was gross. It was only as she got older that Jaycee recognized the sacrifices her grandmother had made to give her a good life.

“Who needs a man?” Jaycee asked, picking up the napkin to wipe food from the corner of Mavis’ mouth.

“You do,” Mavis said, making slow eye contact. “Who will look after you when I’m gone?”

Sucking in a breath, Jaycee straightened. “Don’t talk like that,” she gasped.

There should’ve been something funny about Mavis suggesting she was the caregiver in her current state. Except Jaycee would always rely on this woman, no matter how physically strong she was or wasn’t.

Jaycee got her tenacity from Mavis. Got her guts and her attitude from the woman who had battled through every tribulation in her life.

“You need to think about what comes next,” Mavis said, resting her fork on the plate.

“What’s next?”

“Children of your own.”

Shaking her head, Jaycee took the fork from Mavis to feed her another bite. “You know how I feel about that. I’m not having children.”

“Because you don’t trust yourself not to turn into your own mother,” Mavis said. “You could never be her. You don’t have a hateful bone in your body. Your mother was all hate.”

Yes, she was, and her father hadn’t been much better. But they didn’t often talk of her father. Not so much because there was any great denial, but because Mavis blamed herself for the kind of father her only son turned out to be.

“Is… it painful?”

“Is what painful?” Mavis asked, using her stronger hand to take the fork from Jaycee.

“Giving birth.”

Mavis stopped what she was doing. Her initial shock became a smile. “They have all kinds of wonderful drugs these days.” Laughing, Jaycee supposed that was an answer. “Why? Are you considering it?”

“My genes aren’t bad. Everyone’s always been healthy,” she said, stroking Mavis’ wiry white hair from her temple. “It’s bringing them up I’m afraid of.”

The red bills were piling up. In a few months, she’d have to admit defeat. Would she give up a year of her life to save this incredible woman?

It was almost a ridiculous question.

Jaycee would give up her life for the grandmother she adored, so what was a few months of pregnancy if it kept them solvent? Nothing, that’s what. An easy sacrifice. Mavis’ heart was so good that if Jaycee could trade physical bodies with her, she would in a heartbeat. Doing this, giving birth for money, seemed like a small price to pay.

Watching Mavis struggle to pick up the fork once, then twice, tears sprang to Jaycee’s eyes and she slid a hand over her grandmother’s to help her fingers move around the handle. Jaycee couldn’t let the government dump this once invincible woman in a backroom care facility somewhere to be ignored until she died.

It broke Jaycee’s heart to see her grandmother here. She had a wide window in her room with a view of the grounds and the trees beyond, so it wasn’t a bad life, but it was less than Mavis deserved. She had to find a way to keep her grandmother here in this place that wasn’t the best.

Her grandmother deserved the best, but Jaycee couldn’t afford that. She sure wouldn’t be able to bear seeing her grandmother in anywhere worse than this.

Money was the only obstacle to her giving Mavis everything she deserved.

That was it. Money.

If she had money, she could show Mavis her gratitude; reward the wonderful woman for caring so selflessly for her and giving up her life for the grubby little granddaughter who’d had no one to love her until her grandmother took her into her arms.

The decision stayed with her all night.

At first, Jaycee told herself to be patient. To think about it. To reflect. But in truth, there was no choice. She’d finished her second singing set and was due to start her last set in just a few minutes.

As she stood in front of the bar, slugging water from the bottle she’d just been given by Pete, Jaycee noticed Guy in the middle of the room. Scanning the patrons, he was doing his job, making sure there were nothing but smiles and fun surrounding them while looking for warning signs that something might be about to go down.

There weren’t often fights in here. But artists, by their very nature, tended to be a passionate bunch. Nonchalant for ninety percent of the time and then someone would insult one of their ideals and boom, suddenly it was on.

Jaycee had never really looked at Guy before, not as a whole package. At about six-three, he was taller than most of the people in the room, giving him a good vantage point to keep an eye on things. Would he be a good father?

Damn, she was thinking about this.

She was going to have that guy’s baby.

Resolved, and determined not to chicken out, she slammed the plastic bottle on the bar and began to wind her way through the tables and bodies of the customers between them who had no idea what a profound diversion both of their lives were about to take.

Jaycee walked up to him—right up. She had to because there wasn’t much space around. And when her chest made contact with his torso, he lowered his attention slowly. Guy noticed her and then picked up his chin again to keep an eye on the room, like he’d identified her and dismissed her as no kind of threat. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t ask her why she’d just marched up and barged right into him.

It had been a week since he’d first put the suggestion to her, so maybe he was pissed at her for refusing him or it could be that without her acceptance, she was nothing to him. Yet she was the one who’d walked up to him, if she had something to say, she should say it, it wasn’t his place to start the conversation.

Taking a deep breath, she dropped her shoulders and hitched her chin. “I’ll do it.”

For a second, she thought maybe he hadn’t heard her. The music wasn’t loud, it was just a background track she’d put on to keep the atmosphere alive. But the conversation was lively, so the noise level was high.

When he slowly lowered his gaze, she saw through his narrow inspection. Oh yeah, he’d heard her all right.

Grabbing her shoulder, he took her by surprise when he dragged her to the edge of the room and crouched to line his face up with hers. “What did you say?”

“I’ll do it,” she said.

Her heart was doing a samba and her skin felt like it was a fire-ants’ dancefloor, but there was also something else, a prickle of almost excitement beneath all the apprehension. Pregnancy, babies, yeah, terrifying, but the freedom it could give her… If this guy was for real, and he could provide funds for her, then damn, she’d be able to breathe again.

“You’ll… you will?” he asked and exhaled his surprise in a single burst. Scooping both hands under her jaw, he pulled her closer and grinned.

Hell.

She’d never seen him look like that before. He was happy. More than happy, he was overjoyed. After appreciating her face for a second, he pulled her into his arms and squeezed her so tight that she had to hit his ribs a couple of times to request release.

Guy stopped squeezing but kept hold of her shoulders as he bowed to meet her eyes again. “Come back to mine tonight and we’ll figure it all out.”

Tonight.

So soon?

Oh… oh, damn. Right. Yes… Okay.

She just managed to nod when Brik, one of the other bouncers came up behind Guy and touched him to get his attention. As soon as Guy turned away, she bolted.

Yes, she’d do it. But hell, did she have to do it right this minute? She hadn’t even shaved her legs today.

“You’re nervous,” Guy said as he brought her a glass of wine.

Yeah, maybe because she’d had no idea this crazy bastard drove a big scary motorcycle. One that he’d put her on the back of to drive her through the city streets like they were in a disaster movie trying to outrun a tsunami.

Taking the wine from him, Jaycee cradled the glass in two hands and ignored him sitting with her on his couch to stare into the cool liquid. “I’ve never agreed to have a guy’s kid before,” she said after her pulse began to recover from the adrenaline shot given to her by that road trip.

“You don’t know what this means to me, Jaycee,” he said, dropping a heavy hand onto her knee.

The fabric of her dress was trapped between his palm and her skin, but the heat of it warmed her, proving it was there… and that she was here. Near this man who’d asked her to carry his child. Her heart began to race. So soon? Did he have to touch her just like that? Like it was no big deal?

Oh damn, she got another chill.

“I have a lot of… questions,” she said, pushing his hand away from her leg. “Before we think about anything else. We have to get a few things straightened out.”

“Okay,” he said, twisting his body toward her and resting his beer bottle on his knee. “Like what?”

“I have to know you’re a decent guy. You’re asking me just to hand my kid over. Whether you want me to sign a legal, whatever, it would still be my egg, my child.”

“Biologically, yes,” he said. “I’m glad you’re asking about me, shows you have good character.”

“I don’t need your approval,” she said, pissed at herself for getting defensive. “But I do need you to prove that you can hold up your end of the deal.”

“My sperm count is—”

“Not that end,” she said. “The money. I won’t do this for cheap. You’re asking to rent my body for a year, but I’m taking a risk, there can be all kinds of complications with pregnancy. There are medical expenses and—”

“Everything medical will be taken care of,” he said. “I will cover all your expenses until the baby is born. Everything. You can stay here and—”

“Here?” she asked. “Why would I live with you?”

“Because I want to be involved,” he said. “It’s your body, but this is my kid. He’s going to ask me questions and I want to be able to tell him if you got sick or had cravings. Stuff like that.”

This was becoming real. Guy was talking about a human, the real person that she was going to produce. “He’s going to hate me,” she whispered, focusing on her wine again. “He’ll think I just abandoned him.”

Sliding those long fingers under her chin again, he picked up her head to marry their eyes. “No,” he said. “He’s going to know that you gave me the most special gift. You’re not going to be hated around here. I’m so grateful for this, Jayc, so grateful… I won’t let the little guy say one bad word about you, ever.”

Pushing his hand away again, it was easier to maintain distance when he wasn’t being sweet. “You’ll cover all my grandmother’s expenses,” she said. “Everything. The home, the medical, everything.”

He nodded. “For as long as she needs it.”

It was an amazing relief to hear someone say it would all be taken care of. Jaycee could feel the weight of worry lifting from her shoulders. In the research she’d done about surrogacy, this was a damn good deal. Most surrogates got a one-off payment, and although the amount varied, that one payment would only cover her grandmother’s costs for a year at most, two at an absolute push. Here was Guy promising to take care of her on an indefinite basis, Mavis could live another month or another two decades, she was only seventy-seven.

While it seemed that he was saying the right things, Jaycee couldn’t relax yet. “Guy, how can… Do you know what you’re committing yourself to? Taking care of her expenses, my medical expenses, and the expenses of a baby? That’s a huge commitment.”

“I know, don’t worry, you don’t have to worry about money.”

Again, so sure, and this place was nice, but she still had no clue how he was planning to cover the costs. Jaycee couldn’t get pregnant and then find he’d run out of cash. “I don’t mean to be rude, but… Do you sell drugs or something?”

His smile flashed for a brief second again, he’d been more relaxed tonight than she’d ever seen him. “You think I’m a criminal?”

“I think if you are, I won’t be carrying your baby, and if your story isn’t believable enough, I’m going to assume you’re lying.”

Jaycee was willing to bust his balls, if she had to, but when he inhaled and turned himself even further toward her, he didn’t look worried. “Okay, before I tell you how I can afford this, I need your word that you’ll do it. Your word is enough for me.” She was going to object before he carried on. “Providing I’m not a scumbag criminal who wants to beat or exploit our child… promise me that you will do this… Jaycee I’m putting a lot of faith in you here, there are only four people in the whole world who know the truth. I’ve done my research; I trust your integrity… I just need your word.”

This was the point of no return. If he was legit and she said yes, there was no backing out. Picturing her grandmother being bundled into some charity minibus with her clothes in tatters and tears in her eyes was enough to give Jaycee the impetus to say, “You have my word, Guy.”

But he didn’t look pleased or happy, in fact when he swallowed, she’d say he looked nervous for the first time tonight. “Okay,” he said and cleared his throat before and after emptying his beer bottle into it.

“Oh God, are you in porn or something?” she groaned. “You have some depraved studio upstairs that—”

“Studio, yes, depraved no,” he said.

She was confused. “I don’t understand what—”

“I’m Beckett Trent,” he said, and his assessing eyes landed on hers as he monitored her reaction.

Except, she was blank. “The painter?”

He nodded, then lifted a hand to the back of his head. “And I’m Kett Smith.”

“Kett… the sculptor?”

Again, he nodded, then he breathed in without breathing out again straight after. “And I’m Trenton Guy.”

“The… the urban landscape photographer?” Pause. Uh… what the… “Didn’t… Didn’t Beckett Trent sell a piece last week for thirty million dollars?”

“Thirty-six-point-three,” he said like it was no big deal and screwed up his face a fraction. “But I don’t see all of that.”

Jaycee was numb, like a person might be if they’d just stumbled across an alien who said they’d just swung by the planet to pick up a plain ol’ soda. “Course not… Kett Smith did that… commission for Central Park… That’s huge, how did he—”

“I did it in sections,” he said and shrugged. “It’s actually a pain in the ass when they give you precise dimensions, no more than, no less than… guaran-fucking-teed you’ll be like a centimeter over… and they will bust your chops for it, even if the fucking thing has been the bane of your life for three years.”

This was… surreal, sitting here watching him try to tip beer into his mouth only to be reminded that his bottle was empty. “Uh… huh…”

Jaycee managed to make the sounds, but still couldn’t quite bring herself back into reality.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, leaving the couch to head toward the kitchen.

Hungry? No. No, she definitely wasn’t! She was high… he must have spiked her or something. “I used to have a Trenton Guy on my wall,” she muttered into the ether.

“Oh yeah? Which one?” he called back to her. “If I have the original upstairs, you can have it.”

Panting out a single breath, Jaycee didn’t know what the hell to feel as she surged to her feet. “I… I think I have to… I should go.”

She started for the door.

“Go where?” he asked. “Where are you sleeping tonight?”

Slowing down, she eventually came to a stop. She’d planned to ask one of the AD staff for a bed. But when Guy had told her to come to his, Jaycee couldn’t bring herself to tell their colleagues she was coming to his house and would show at their door to wake them up at some unknown, ungodly hour.

“I’ll get a motel,” she said, as was usually her last resort.