Excerpt of Bad Boys to Go by Janelle Denison, Lori Foster, Nancy Warren

Bring Up Baby Lori Foster

Chapter One

Gil Watson was both nervous and excited—an odd combination
he hadn’t experienced since his first years of college.
These days he was confidence personified, commanding even,
an in-charge guy perfect for the corporate world. He
prided himself on his professional demeanor, his calm
outlook on life. He had a business to run for his family;
they relied on him and he enjoyed that.

He’d grown up—and in the process permanently buried all
wild inclinations.

But today, the figures blurred on the computer screen in
front of him. He wasn’t getting much work done, which
seemed to be the norm of late, rather than the exception.
It had taken only one phone call to throw him off track,
but then, it wasn’t every day a man learned he had a
daughter, a daughter he hadn’t known of until two weeks
ago.

He hadn’t been the same since.

Would she look like him? At two and a half years, was a
child developed enough to look like anyone? What he knew
about babies wouldn’t fill a thimble. At thirty-two, he
concentrated on knowing business, family responsibility,
and finances. And not to brag, he also knew women.

But he knew zilch about being a father.

It still boggled his mind that Shelly had never said a
word. He saw her two or three times a year, whenever
business took him to Atlanta. He’d been to her office, to
her home, met her coworkers and friends. Right after his
father’s death three years ago, he’d been so sick at heart
that he’d done things he wasn’t proud of.

Like using Shelly.

Not that she hadn’t been willing. She’d sent him one of
her looks and he’d reciprocated, and within the hour
they’d gone from business associates to lovers. He still
remembered the wild, frenzied way she’d taken him. For two
days, he kept her in his motel room burning up the sheets.
She’d catered to his sexual needs, his fantasies, and even
his less than orthodox demands—the demands he’d thought
well under control. She’d been everything he’d physically
wanted and needed at the time.

In truth, she’d wrung him out and left his body and mind
thankfully blank for an entire weekend, relieving his
sense of loss for his father, obliterating his concern
about taking over the family business and the overwhelming
responsibilities he’d accepted as his own.

It was when he’d awakened and saw her looming over him,
smiling with too much emotion for a mere sexual coupling,
that Gil had realized his mistake. Shelly wanted a husband
and apparently saw him as a prime candidate. But he didn’t
want the burden of a wife added to the new load he already
carried.

His oldest brother was a cop, his youngest brother still
in school, and his mother had never involved herself with
the company. Taking over the successful family novelty
business and keeping them all financially solvent had
naturally fallen to Gil. Outwardly, he was the most staid,
the only one who’d shown an interest, his father’s
protégé.

No, the last thing he’d wanted was a wife to further muddy
the waters, so he’d done what he considered wise and
responsible. He’d gently explained his lack of interest
and had never again touched Shelly sexually. Yet she’d had
his baby and continued to associate with him as a close
friend. Without once ever telling him.

Gil’s stomach clenched over such a deception. He hadn’t
known, damn it, but that was no excuse. Shelly had taken
care of their baby alone and now she was gone. He couldn’t
make things right by her—but he could raise their
daughter. And he would.

Giving up, he closed out the computer program and leaned
back in his chair, his mind churning with regrets and
curiosity and that persistent nervousness. A baby, his
baby. Jesus.

A small commotion in the outer office drew him forward
again in his chair. He grew alert, his brows drawn in
confusion when the door opened and his assistant stuck her
head in. Her frown rivaled his own. “Gil, you have . . .
company.”

At fifty, Alice wasn’t prone to melodrama. Her expression
had Gil rising from his desk in a rush. “Who is it?”

“Well, the young lady introduced herself as Anabel Truman.
And the youngest lady is Nicole Lane Tyree, as I
understand it, although all she’s done is suck her thumb.”

Every muscle in Gil’s body went rigid. His brain cramped.
His daughter was here—with Anabel—two weeks early. He
rounded his desk with a long stride.

Damn Anabel; he’d offered to come to her, to buy her
airline tickets, to pay for their transportation. As
contrary and outrageous as ever, she’d refused, telling
him it’d be at least ten days before she could leave. Ten
long days before he’d get to meet his baby.

Yet she was here, at his office, where he didn’t want her
to be, rather than at his home where he might keep his
private business private for a little while longer. At
least until he could figure out what to do, how to
proceed . . .

Arms crossed and eyebrows lifted, Alice moved out of his
way as Gil charged forward. If this was a deliberate ploy
on Anabel’s part to discredit him, he’d—well, he didn’t
know what he’d do yet, but he’d think of something.
Because Anabel had been Shelly’s roommate, he’d known her
as long as he’d known Shelly. She was always there when he
visited, always twitting him, picking at him. Her presence
was always unnerving; she made him think things he
shouldn’t think, things he had tried not to think now that
he had new responsibilities to consider.

As Shelly’s best friend, she’d been off-limits then. But
no more.

He threw the door wide and then froze, his heart shooting
into his throat, his stomach dropping, his knees almost
giving out. Damn it, why did Anabel have that effect on
him?

She looked the same as always: seductive. He’d never
really liked her. She was too outspoken and pushy. Too
overtly sexual and in your face. Too . . . hot. She was
one of those women you just knew would be incredible in
the sack and it made him nuts.

It wasn’t just her jewelry, her overdone makeup and risqué
clothing that had made her far too difficult to ignore.
There’d been something about the way she watched him, too,
her close attention, the carnality in her gaze that made
him wonder if their basic natures might mesh.

That thought had kept him on edge whenever he was around
her.