Page 30 of Alpha's Secret Baby

Just then, Fern’s voice sounded happily from the living room. She was playing. Everything was fine. She probably hadn’t heard me come in, that was all.

Slipping off my heels, I tracked into the living room and stopped. Fern and Lara sat amidst a treasure trove of toys. A dance mat was unboxed near the TV, pieces of Lego scattered the floor, and a doll’s head with hair the color of a rainbow caught my eye.

“What’s this?” I exclaimed. It looked like Father Christmas had visited half a year early.

Fern looked up from the Lego castle she was building, “Mom! The man who moved in across the way gave me them!” She grinned. “He’s so handsome and kind.”

I blanched, knowingexactlywho she meant, even though the fact that he’dmoved inacross the way was a shock. Dylan was nowlivingopposite me. My mouth went dry, and my stomach fluttered.

I did my best to hide the weird mix of feelings churning through me. Instead, I focused on educating my daughter. “I thought you knew better than to talk to strangers, Fern.”

I caught sight of our nanny Lara’s guilty and confused expression. I knew Dylan must have used his Alpha powers on her, just like Bert had. Anger simmered beneath my skin, and I knew I’d have to lay down the law more with him tomorrow.

But my daughter responded delightedly to my telling-off. “He’s not a stranger, Mom. He knew my name, and he said he was your friend. Isn’t it great that your friend moved here?” She got up to give me a hug before returning to her toys. “Maybe Bert will move here too, and then all your friends will be here like mine.”

Something about my daughter’s innocent comment had me choking up, and I excused myself, going to put the kettle on. It was then that our nanny, Lara traipsed into the kitchen and finally got her words out. “I’m sorry, Cherry. Fern ran ahead of me when we came back earlier, and by the time I got to the door, it was too late to intercept all the toys your friend had given her.” The poor young woman wrung her hands, and I knew it wasn’t her fault. It wasDylan’s.

“It’s okay, Lara. I saw Dylan yesterday. I should have mentioned he was in town. I guess it just slipped my mind after getting back from Seattle.”

Our nanny clasped her hands. “Oh, thank God! I’ve been kicking myself the last few hours and thinking you’d be angry.”

I shook my head and offered her a cup of tea, but she had dinner plans. After saying bye to Fern for the day, she headed off. That evening, I knew by how engrossed Fern was with all her new toys that there was nothing to be done with the gifts Dylan had foisted on her this time.

But, tomorrow, I intended to give Dylan a piece of my mind. I hadn't been firm enough with him. That night, I fell asleep, practicing the things I fully intended to tell him when I went over to his tomorrow.

The next day found me up early. Still in my dressing gown, I set to brewing a strong pot of coffee. A knock sounded on the door.

Opening it, I was dumbfounded by the sight of Dylan, his arms filled with a breakfast tray and flowers.

“I figured you’re probably the continental breakfast sort of person these days,” he joked.

I forced my gaping mouth closed, then pulled the door almost shut behind me, anxious not to wake Fern. If she woke, this situation was going to get even more complicated. I tugged Dylan away from the door. In the middle of the hallway, I crossed my arms and fixed him with a hard look. “I can’t accept these gifts, Dylan. And I don’t want you giving any more gifts to Fern either. I told you, I’m with someone else.”

“You’re still not a morning person, are you?” He said with a crooked smile. “But then, you’ve probably not had your first coffee yet. Here’s a hazelnut latte.” He eyeballed the takeaway cup on the tray. I realized he’d stopped by the café opposite and remembered what I’d ordered yesterday.

I planted my hands on my hips. “I’m serious, Dylan.” I resisted the divine smell of coffee and syrup, as well as the hot buttery croissants and jams that taunted my shifter senses.

He shrugged as if unfazed by my expression and remonstrance. “So am I. After all, I’ve lost count of the number of timesyou’vecooked formeand nourished me and our mating bond. It’s my turn to do the same formy matenow.”

The certainty in his voice and dark eyes had a shiver slipping down my spine, and I was suddenly aware that I was only wearing a silk negligee and a thin kimono robe. His domineering tone, clenched jaw, and dark, searing eyes had molten heat pooling in my core. I flushed, retreating back, determined that if I couldn’t tell him to go away, I’d damn well show him. I shut the door on him.

But, apparently, there was nothing I could do to discourage him. The next day I found a breakfast tray set outside the door again. I didn’t touch it. I refused to. Then, by the end of the day, it had been cleared away. But the next day, I found another offering of steaming croissants, butter, and jam awaiting me outside my door.

Early on the third morning, I’d had enough. This was madness. Flinging on some clothes, I pocketed my keys to the apartment, determined to be no more than ten minutes, and marched over to his house.

Pounding on his door, it was only a few knocks before Dylan answered.

Marching past him, I strode into his living-room before turning to stare him down.

“Just stop, Dylan. You’re wasting your time on me. I’m not going to change my mind.”

He set down the breakfast tray on his coffee table and turned to me, a steely determination settling over his face. “I’m not going to stop bringing you food and nurturing our bond.”

Infuriated, I argued, “That was sevenyearsago, for Nuu-Chah’s sake. We’re not living together anymore.”

His expression fell, and his eyes grew somber. “Something I’ve missedevery daysince you left,” he declared. “So, no, we’re not living together, but at least here, I get to see you, and am close enough to bring you food, that you don’t eat like the jackass I was back then.”

My lips turned down. “Did you just call me a jackass?”

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