The Baby Mission
The Baby Mission
Vivian Wood
Author’s Copyright
Copyright Vivian Wood 2018
May not be replicated or reproduced in any manner without express and written permission from the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to author and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Contents
The Baby Mission
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Love This Book?
Dr. Hottie
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Want MORE?
Hot As Hell
1. Lily
2. Cade
3. Lily
4. Cade
5. Lily
6. Cade
7. Lily
8. Lily
9. Cade
10. Lily
11. Cade
12. Lily
13. Cade
14. Lily
15. Cade
16. Lily
17. Cade
18. Lily
19. Cade
20. Lily
21. Cade
22. Lily
23. Cade
24. Lily
25. Cade
26. Lily
27. Cade
28. Lily
29. Cade
30. Lily
31. Cade
32. Lily
Love This Book?
Also by Vivian Wood
An excerpt from His Virgin…
About Vivian Wood
I want to take a minute and thank all my beta readers — you know who you are! You guys seriously made this manuscript rock.
And I want to mention my ARC readers too… thank you so much for everything!
The Baby Mission
Chapter One
Jett
“I’m telling you, women are all the same,” I say. “They just want you to believe that some of them are different…”
Mason and Alex, my two best friends, don’t even look at me as we climb the stairs leading to the roof. They’ve heard it all before, but they are listening anyway. They’re good friends.
I huff a little as we hit the sixth flight of stairs. A small gaggle of women comes down the stairwell, their high heels making a sharp clomp-clomp-clomp sound on the concrete. I’m distracted for a second by the women, with their bright smiles and miles of long legs.
I like the look of the one in the front, leading the pack. She’s a blonde in a pink minidress. She makes eye contact with me for a second, then blushes and bites her lip.
She’s looking at me too, at me and Mason and Alex. Three tall, handsome men in plaid button downs and jeans. She’s probably trying to figure out which of us is the hottest.
Alex is easily the tallest. At 6’6, he’s got a few inches on me and Mason. It made the college football scouts come knocking when he was seventeen, too.
Mason has the whole dark and brooding thing going on, especially with that nose of his that’s been broken a half dozen times. He draws women who are attracted to his angsty don’t-fuck-with-me persona.
And me? I’m pretty fucking tall, I’ve got a good body, and I’ve got a great face. I unleash one of my dangerous smiles on the woman making eye contact with me. She stumbles a little, reaching out to grab the wall to balance herself.
Bingo, I think. It feels pretty damn gratifying.
And then they’re out of sight. We come up to a plain metal door, and even though it’s closed, I can hear the party happening on the other side. The wub-dub-dub of the bass can be heard through the door.
I push the door open, and step outside into the cool late spring night air. The party is on a rooftop, with lights strung overhead and a hundred plus people chatting and dancing below. Immediately, I’m engulfed in loud, poppy music and the big, bright colored lights that flash across the whole event.
“Jett, come on,” Mason says, touching my arm and jerking his head towards a bar set up across the way from us.
I follow Mason, threading my way through the crowd. Here and there I get glances from women, which makes me feel perversely hopeful. I don’t necessarily want their attention right now, but I might want it later. Once I get a few beers inside me, I may be able to forget about Emily and focus on what my body needs.
At the thought of Emily, I frown. Emily is exactly my type: blonde hair, honey-brown eyes, and she has a dancer’s lithe frame. Emily is also the fucking bitch that ripped out my heart and stomped on it.
So there’s that.
Mason spots an ice bucket filled to the brim with beer, and all three of us grab one. It’s a Miller High Life, nothing fancy. I twist off the top and take a sip, feel the cool slide of the beer in my throat.
Alex leads the way to an unoccupied spot along the wall, and we stand and look out at the party.
“What’s this party for, again?” Mason asks.
“It’s thrown by my manager,” Alex says with a shrug. “Something about the rites of spring.”
“You guys are still hunting for another NFL team?” I ask Alex.
“Yep. I’m not quite ready to throw in the towel.”
“You should be, after that nasty hit you took last year,” Mason says. “I was watching the game when those three guys took you down.”
Alex shifts, and it’s clear from his body language that he doesn’t want to talk about it. I used to be someone in baseball, so I get where he’s coming from.
“Hey, did I tell you that the guys from my office have made up these fake draft card things? Here, let me get one out…” I say, pulling a card from my wallet. “They’re supposed to look like baseball cards, but they’re for the sports agents at Sampson .”
“That’s not a bad picture of you,” Mason says. Plucking the card from my fingers, he holds it up beside my head and squints. “You could really get some good pussy with this, you know.”
“Not bad,” Alex says, sipping his beer.
“Emily says it’s a bad picture of me,” I say, grabbing the card from him and putting it
back in my wallet.
“Oh my god. Well if Emily says it, then it must be true!” Mason says, rolling his eyes. “I am so sick of hearing her name. She dumped you for some stupid reasons, so let’s just move on.”
“It’s not that easy,” I protest, but even to me it sounds weak.
“It’s been a month, man,” Alex says, clapping me on the back. “She’s probably fucking someone new. You should take your cue from her.”
“Whatever,” I say.
“Seriously, stop whining and get some action. Just look around this party. There are sexy women everywhere you look,” Mason says.
I take minute to assess, and find that Mason isn’t wrong. There are tons of girls at this party, dancing together or standing close to talk to one another.
“I think I see who I’m going to hit on,” Alex says. “If you’ll excuse me…”
He heads to the other side of the party, his sheer size forcing people to move out of his way as he shoulders his way through the crowd.
“See? It’s that easy,” Mason says.
“I can pick up any girl I want,” I say, raising a brow. “I’m Jett James.”
“I don’t know about any girl.”
“Seriously?” I ask, cocking a brow. “How about this? You pick the girl. And I’m willing to bet you Hawks floor seats.”
Mason side-eyes me. “Alright, but you can’t just go home with whomever I pick. You have to go on a date.”
“A date? Really?” I say.
“It’s too easy to just go home with a girl and never see her again. Come on, it’ll be good for you.”
“Fuck, all right,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “Just promise that you’ll pick someone good.”
His brows rise. “I’m offended that you think I wouldn’t.”
I just grunt and sip my beer. Mason is busy looking around.
“What about her, the blonde in the red miniskirt? She’s my type,” I say.
Mason looks at me, slightly exasperated.
“You said that I got to pick. Besides, I am so bored of the blondes that you bring around. They are, as you say, all exactly the same. Short, skinny, and blonde.” He makes a face. “You need someone a little different. Consider this your palate cleanser.”
“Psshhh,” I say, waving my hand at him. “You complain too much.”
“Shh, let me look.” His brows pull down in concentration. “Ah. How about there? The brunette with the red sweater and the skirt.”
I look where he is looking, and after a second, I spot her. She’s downright academic looking, in an attractive way. She has long hair, just the color of a raven’s wing, and olive-toned skin. A pair of black-rimmed sunglasses rests on her head. She is wearing an oversized red sweater, a black pencil skirt, and a pair of cherry red high heels.
She’s also holding a big black purse and fiddling with her iPhone. She made a sour face suddenly, and started typing something into her phone. The way her thumbs were flying, I could imagine that someone was in trouble.
She looks like she’s smart, but she wouldn’t be into the whole former-jock thing that I have going on. Which is just as well, because she looks like someone who is about to teach me English, not like someone who I’d go on a date with.
“She’s pretty,” I admit. “But she looks boring. Look, her friends are trying to get her to dance. I bet she’ll say no.”
A few seconds later, she politely rebuffed her friends’ entreaties, and she was left alone once more.
“I have a good feeling about her,” Mason says. “She’s definitely the one.”
“Come on, you have to pick someone more interesting,” I say. “Like… anyone else at this party.”
“I thought Jett James could pick up anyone?” he says, a shit-eating grin on his face.
“She looks like she just swallowed a whole lemon.”
“And?” he said. “You said that you were betting court side Hawks tickets on it.”
Fuck. “Alright, alright. I’m going.”
I gave him the stink eye as I push my way through the crowd, heading over to the spot where she leans against the wall. I notice that she taps her foot along with the music, despite looking downright annoyed.
“Excuse me,” I say, stopping in front of her.
She looks up at me, her gray eyes uncertain. “Yes?”
I like her voice, a throaty, velvet purr.
“I just came over here to say that you’re stunning,” I say. I wince a little, as the music suddenly got louder about halfway through my sentence. My words were lost.
She scrunches up her face, which is sort of comical. “What?”
I lean closer to her, and catch a faint whiff of her perfume. “I said, you’re stunning.”
Her expression turns disapproving in a heartbeat. There is a second where I can feel her eyes on me, feel her assessing my clothes and my height, feel her calculating something. She takes in the tattoos that are visible, too. And then I see dismissal in her expression, without knowing me at all.
She’s essentially decided that I’m not worthwhile, based on some kind of metrics that I’m not privy to.
It doesn’t feel good.
“Oh, uhh— thanks?” she says. I can tell that she’s about to end the conversation.
Where’s that famous Jett James charm? I wonder.
“Hey, would you do me a favor?” I say, without really thinking about it. “My ex Emily is here, and she’s sort of slyly watching me. Is it cool if I just pretend that you and I are hitting it off?”
Her eyes have wandered down to her phone screen, but they snap back up to mine. She examines me for another second, her dark grey eyes like watching a gathering storm.
“Ummm…” she says, obviously torn between me and whatever is on her phone.
Damn, am I that uninteresting?
“Sure,” she finally says, but it feels like I’ve only just got her to look at me. Time to be dazzling, I guess.
I grin at her, moving a little closer. “You’d tell me if this fake relationship was inconveniencing you, right?”
I see her worry her lip a little and furrow her brow. She doesn’t mean to, but she shifts towards me very slightly. I take that to mean that my smile worked.
I’m in, I think.
“So I just say the word, and you back off?” she asks, keeping things light.
“Sure. I’m hoping you won’t, though. Only to spare me the embarrassment.” I put my hand over my heart, but stop shy of giving her a pleading face.
She seems to take that at face value, nodding.
“Alright. Which one is she?” she asks, looking around the party.
Shit. I should’ve been prepared for this. I scan the crowd, looking for someone who looks vaguely like Emily.
“Uhhh… she’s over there,” I say, nodding to a pretty, skinny blonde by the exit door. “In the black romper thing.”
“Ah,” she says, nodding. “She’s pretty.”
I pull a face, and she goes pink.
“Sorry,” she says. “I would ask why you guys aren’t an item anymore, but I don’t want to pour salt on the wounds.”
“You can make it up to me, I’m sure,” I say with a smile.
Her eye roll is particularly epic. My smile turns into a grin. I take a sip of my beer, which is pretty stale and warm by now.
I look over my shoulder to see what Mason is doing, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Fucker.
When I look back, she is frowning at her phone screen again, her brow puckered. Shit, she is losing interest again. Why the fuck did Mason have to pick her?
I need a new approach.
“Hey, what’s so interesting on your phone?” I ask.
She looks up at me. “An email from my boss. I’m a lawyer, and my boss is a little verbose. Try as I might, I can’t make heads or tails of this email.”
I cock my head. How should I tackle this? I guess I haven’t tried being blunt yet…
“Can I ask you a question?” I say.
/>
“Sure. Ask away,” she says, turning the screen of her phone off. She looks at me.
I lean in, dropping my voice low, using the full force of my dark blue eyes. “Do you have a boyfriend, or a husband?”
She blushes, the pale pink tinging her high cheekbones. “No.”
“Okay. How about this, then? You put your phone away for twenty minutes, and let me be entertaining.”
The pale pink spreads out to her cheeks. “Alright…” she says hesitantly.
She drops her phone into her handbag with a satisfying thunk. I grin and stick out my hand.
“Jett James.”
“Cady Ellis,” she says. Her handshake is firm, domineering even.
I get a mental image of me dominating her in bed, and her fighting it for every second until she’s screaming my name. A lick of heat stirs my cock.