The Baby Contract Read online

  The man hit a couple of keys on a computer terminal recessed into the desk in front of him. “You have an appointment?”

  “Not for today,” she answered. “We’ve been corresponding for a few weeks, and my plans were fluid.” She stopped talking, hoping he’d draw the conclusion that Troy Keiser was willing, even intending to make an appointment with her.

  “Your name?” he asked.

  She wished he hadn’t asked that, but she couldn’t see a way around giving it to him. “Mila Stern.”

  Troy Keiser—and, she had to assume, the entire human resources unit of Pinion Security—would recognize her name as the woman whose job application they’d rejected three times over.

  The man pressed a button on his compact headset.

  Mila continued to smile even as tension built within her. She was fully qualified to become a security agent at Pinion, even if Troy Keiser wouldn’t admit it. She had a degree in criminology and a black belt in Krav Maga, along with significant technical surveillance and tactical weapons training.

  The man waited, and Mila waited. She knew if he talked to Troy Keiser, it would be game over before she made it past the lobby.

  Her gaze flicked to the elevator doors behind him. No doubt they were controlled by a passkey. If she was lucky, there was also a staircase from the lobby. She drew his attention by smoothing back her brown hair, pretending to check the French braid that held it in place. At the same time, she surreptitiously scanned the room.

  There it was. A stairway door. She let her gaze slide right past it without pausing. If Troy refused to see her, she’d make a break for the stairway. Reception man would have to circle the end of the counter to come after her, giving her a head start of two, maybe three seconds.

  He might call for backup on the second floor, but that would take five to seven seconds. She could run a flight of stairs in three, and this was only a nine-story building. She’d duck out at the fourth floor and try to lose them. Assuming the stairwell doors weren’t locked. They could easily be locked.

  The man ended the phone call without speaking and pressed another number.

  Mila waited, hoping a new call might work in her favor.

  “Vegas?” the man said into the phone. “There’s a woman here for Troy. No, no appointment. Mila Stern.”

  He paused, his eyes narrowing on Mila.

  She shifted her weight to the ball of her left foot, getting ready to sprint.

  “Will do,” he said. The suspicion seemed to go out of his eyes.

  She took a chance and waited a moment longer.

  He ended the call. “You can meet Hugh Fielding on the second floor.”

  Yes. At least she’d make it out of the lobby.

  “Is Troy here?” she dared ask.

  “He’s busy at the moment. But Vegas should be able to help you.”

  She wanted to ask what Troy was doing, or more importantly where Troy was doing it. Was he on the second floor or somewhere else?

  The man pressed a button, and a light on the elevator behind him turned from red to green.

  “Thank you,” said Mila, heading for the elevator.

  She knew that Hugh Fielding, nicknamed Vegas, was Troy’s business partner. He might not have recognized her name. Then again, he might be planning to run interference, to keep her away from Troy, maybe even to escort her directly out of the building.

  During her research of the company, she’d learned Troy Keiser undertook most management functions, including making the hiring decisions. It seemed Vegas Fielding was the technical expert.

  She stepped inside the elevator. The two was already lighted on the panel. Taking a chance, she reached out and pressed nine—might as well get as far away from Vegas as possible to start her search. The white circle lit up.

  The doors closed, and she moved to a front corner, flush against the wall beside the door. If she was very lucky, Hugh Fielding would think the car was empty and assume she was catching the next elevator.

  It stopped on two, and the doors whooshed open.

  Mila held her breath, hearing phone chimes and several voices outside. No footfalls approached the elevator, and none of the voices seemed raised in alarm.

  The doors closed again, and she let out her breath, easing out of the corner as the numbers counted to nine.

  When the doors opened on the ninth floor, Troy himself stood outside. His arms were folded over his chest, and his feet were braced apart. It was obvious he was expecting her.

  “Seriously?” he asked with an arched brow.

  “Hello, Mr. Keiser.” She quickly exited the elevator.

  If it descended without her, she’d have at least a few moments with him.

  “You just broke into my building.”

  “No,” she disagreed. “Mr. Fielding invited me in. I’m sure nobody could break into the Pinion Security building.”

  A flare came into his blue eyes. She could only hope it was amusement and not anger.

  “Vegas invited you to the second floor.”

  “But the person I really want to see is you.”

  “So you hijacked the elevator to the private floor?”

  Mila glanced along the short hallway that ended in two doors. “I didn’t realize it was a private floor.” She wasn’t about to admit she’d planned to search the building from the top down in order to find him.

  “How can I help you, Ms. Stern? And no, you can’t have a job. Sweet-talking your way past reception does not prove your superior tradecraft skills.”

  “That wasn’t my intent.”

  “What was your intent?”

  “To talk to you in person.”

  “Let’s get this over with.”

  Mila’s brain immediately leaped to her rehearsed points. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but the number of high-profile businesswomen, female politicians and celebrities in need of some form of personal protection is rising every year. Estimates show that companies focusing on that fast-growing demographic can see an increase in business of up to 15 percent per year. And offering services that cater specifically to—”

  “You’re making that up.”

  She didn’t let the interruption rattle her. “I’m not. Any number of public sources can point to the rise in female political figures, industrialists, high-powered rock stars.”

  “The 15 percent. You made up the 15 percent.”

  He had to be guessing. Mila was a very good liar.

  “It’s more anecdotal than scientific,” she allowed. “But the fundamental point—”

  “We already cater to women,” said Troy. “We protect hundreds of women, with better than a 99-percent success rate.”

  There was something slightly off in his expression. He was lying right back at her. But why would he lie? And then she got it. He was making up the 99 percent to mock her.

  “You’re making that up,” she said softly.

  “Any number of sources will verify that we have a robust female clientele.”

  She struggled not to smile. “You’re making up the 99 percent.”

  “It’s my company.”

  “You’ve got a tell.”

  “I do not.”

  She lifted her chin. “Right there. Next to your left ear. There’s a muscle that twitches when you’re lying.”

  “That’s preposterous.”

  “Tell me another lie.”

  “I’ll tell you the truth,” he said. “I’m not hiring you, not now, not ever.”

  “Because I’m a woman.”

  “Because you’re a woman.”

  “And you think that means I can’t fight hand to hand.”

  “I don’t just think that. It’s a fact.”

  “I’m pretty good,” she sa
id, putting a challenge into her tone. “You want to spar?”

  He gave a chopped laugh. “You’re weak and delusional.”

  “I don’t expect to beat you.”

  Her statement seemed to puzzle him. “Then why the challenge?”

  “I expect to do well, surprise you, exceed your expectations.”

  “You’ll get hurt.”

  She gave a shrug. “Probably a little.”

  “Probably a lot.”

  “I really want this job.”

  “No kidding. But I’m not going to give you a job because you’re foolish enough to challenge me in hand-to-hand combat.”

  “Try me.”

  His phone rang in his pocket.

  “No,” he said to her before answering it. Then he made a half turn away from her. “Yeah?”

  Mila regrouped. She knew she could hold her own against him, and she knew she would surprise him with her skills. She also knew one of his major objections to hiring women security agents was the fear they couldn’t handle themselves in a fistfight.

  She considered simply up and attacking him. He’d have to defend himself. Then at least he’d see what she could do.

  “That was fast,” he said into the phone. “I’m already up on the ninth.”

  He was distracted at the moment, half turned away from her. It would give her an advantage in the first few seconds. His ribs were exposed, and his stance was slightly off balance.

  He glanced at her and instantly drew back, an expression of surprise on his face.

  “Gotta go,” he said into the phone. “Don’t even think about it,” he said to Mila.

  So much for her advantage of surprise. Still, the tactic had a reasonable chance of success.

  The elevator pinged behind her.

  It was enough of a distraction that Troy was able to grab her left wrist. He tried for the right, obviously intending to manacle her hands behind her back. But she was too quick for him.

  She was about to catch him in the solar plexus when a baby’s cries came through the elevator doors. She reflexively looked toward the sound.

  Troy snagged her other wrist, disabling her.

  “That wasn’t fair,” she grumbled over her shoulder.

  “Nothing in this business is fair.” He let her go.

  The elevator opened to reveal an attractive young woman with purple hair, a colorful bag dangling over her shoulder and a squalling baby in a stroller out front.

  “He’s hungry,” the woman said to Troy as she moved forward.

  Troy looked quite horrified by the sight.

  Mila knew he didn’t have a wife. Maybe this was a girlfriend.

  “Then feed him,” said Troy, sounding impatient.

  “I will.” The woman bumped the stroller wheels over the lip of the door.

  Mila could see her conversation with Troy coming to an abrupt and final end as the two of them dealt with the crying baby. She couldn’t afford to let that happen.

  Making a split-second decision, she bent over the stroller. “Oh, he’s adorable,” she said.

  The truth was the baby was quite unattractive at the moment. His face red and scrunched up, eyes watery, nose running and his mouth open with bawls of annoyance.

  Mila refused to let it deter her. “Come here, precious,” she cooed, imitating the behavior of her sappy aunt Nancy around babies. She gathered the messy little guy from the stroller. “What’s the trouble, huh? Are you hungry?”

  She felt ridiculous speaking to an uncomprehending baby in such a sickly sweet tone, but it was the only way she could think of to stick with Troy. And she was determined to stick with Troy.

  She forced herself to keep from grimacing as she brought the baby’s gummy face to her shoulder. Her tank top would wash, and so would her skin. She patted him gently on the back, surprised by the warmth of his little body and by the softness. He felt as though he didn’t have a single bone or muscle.

  His cries changed to intermittent sobs.

  “Let’s get going,” the woman said anxiously. “This won’t last long.”

  Mila refused to make eye contact with Troy, knowing he had to be angry at her pushiness. Instead, she marched past him, heading down the short hall to the doors at the end.

  Two

  Two women had invaded Troy’s apartment, for two completely different but equally frustrating reasons. Well, maybe not equally frustrating, since he could get rid of Mila Stern in short order, just as soon as she put the baby down. Though, for the moment, the baby was quiet in her arms, and he was hesitant to mess with that.

  Kassidy was bent over his sofa sorting through her shoulder bag, pulling out diapers, flannel blankets and tiny socks.

  “He likes you,” she said to Mila, straightening with a bottle in her hand.

  “He seems like a sweetheart,” said Mila.

  Something pinged on Troy’s radar. Mila’s expression was perfectly neutral, and there was no reason for her to lie about something as innocuous as a baby. But for some reason his suspicions were up again.

  “He can be a terror,” said Kassidy. “Especially at night. It’s going to take Troy a while to get used to all the crying.”

  “Hello?” Troy didn’t like the sound of that.

  The guest rooms were on the opposite side of the apartment from the master bedroom, but the kid seemed to have quite a set of lungs.

  “I’m Kassidy Keiser, by the way,” Kassidy said to Mila.

  Mila looked surprised. She glanced to Troy. “So, you two are...married?”

  “No,” they both barked out simultaneously.

  Drake let out a cry of surprise.

  “Kassidy is my sister,” said Troy.

  Mila’s glance went to Drake. “So the baby isn’t yours?”

  “No!” This time Troy beat Kassidy to the punch.

  “I live in Jersey City,” said Kassidy, taking Drake from Mila’s arms. “That is, I normally live in Jersey City. But I’ve relocated for a while. Me and Drake. We’ll be staying here with Troy until things calm down.” She sat down on the sofa and popped the bottle into Drake’s mouth.

  The baby dug into the meal, his little hands clasping and unclasping as he sucked and swallowed.

  Mila took an armchair, perching on the edge to watch. “What things need to calm down?” she asked Kassidy, concern evident in her voice.

  Troy started to protest. Mila wasn’t a guest. She had no business engaging his sister in chitchat while his lunch hour ticked away. He had a busy afternoon coming up, and he didn’t intend to spend it starving.

  “Or until I get used to it all, I suppose,” said Kassidy. “And used to him.” She smiled down at Drake, smoothing a lock of his dark hair. “Isn’t he adorable?”

  “You could have put him up for adoption,” said Troy.

  The baby was adorable. There had to be dozens if not hundreds of stable, loving couples who would want him. Kassidy was in absolutely no position to take on an infant. She could barely take care of herself.

  But her eyes flashed angrily at him. “I told you, I promised.”

  “What a thing to say,” Mila cut in, adding her own glare at Troy. “What kind of support is that? This is your nephew.”

  “He’s not my nephew,” said Troy.

  “He will be,” said Kassidy. “Legally, morally and in every other way there is. You better get used to it, Troy. Because little Drake here isn’t going anywhere. Not anywhere.”

  Now Mila just looked confused.

  “She’s adopting him,” said Troy, wondering why he bothered to explain. It was past time for Mila to leave.

  “Where are his birth parents?” Mila asked Kassidy.

  “His mother passed away,” said Kassidy, her tone going soft and
her hand smoothing over Drake’s head for a second time. “She was a good friend.”

  The baby was blissfully oblivious to the discussion swirling around him. His hunger was being satiated, and that was all he cared about. Troy felt a pang of jealousy and then realized he could make that same decision for himself.

  “I need to get lunch,” he announced, checking the time on his wrist.

  He had less than thirty minutes before he had to be back downstairs. The Bulgarians had hired Pinion Security for an important upcoming UN reception, and he needed to get the team set up.

  “Help yourself to whatever you want,” he told Kassidy. He dug into his pocket for a key card. “This will get you into the exterior doors as well as this apartment. You should know there are cameras all over the building.” His gaze moved to Mila. “We can track anybody, anywhere, at any time.”

  She obviously understood. “You knew I was coming.”

  “We saw you hiding from Vegas on the elevator. We were curious.”

  “Sneaky,” she said.

  “Seriously? Me, sneaky?”

  “You could have said something.”

  “Why would I say something?”

  Kassidy’s gaze was ping-ponging back and forth between them.

  “I only wanted to talk to you,” said Mila.

  “And you did. And we’re done.” He gestured to the apartment’s front door. “The control room will be watching you all the way out. So don’t try anything.”

  “Who are you?” asked Kassidy.

  Mila looked at Kassidy, but obviously hesitated over her answer.

  “I thought you were his girlfriend,” Kassidy continued as she lifted Drake to her shoulder and began patting his back.

  “I’m applying for a job,” said Mila.

  “She means she’s stalking me,” said Troy.

  “Welcome to the club,” Kassidy said to Troy.

  “Someone’s stalking you?” Mila was quick to pick up on the inference.

  “I don’t know,” Kassidy answered. “Maybe. I have these fans.” She gave a little burst of laughter. “I guess if you’re not dating Troy—”

  “I’m not dating Troy.”

  “—then you wouldn’t know I was a singer. I’m a singer. And I have some fans. Not a whole bunch of fans, but enough. And some of them have been sending me emails. They’re a bit creepy.”