Little Secrets: Holiday Baby Bombshell

By Karen Booth

From rivalry to revelry…to romance? 

Competitive swimmer turned real estate magnate Michael Kelly is tastier than a Christmas cookie. But now Charlotte Locke's sexy former lover is her top business rival…and the father of her unborn child. Determined to keep her professional cool, the hotel heiress hides her delicate condition from her family – and from her commitment–phobe ex. Until Michael moves in next door, exposing a desire left unquenched and Charlotte's pregnancy secret.

Michael may not be daddy material, but losing Charlotte and their baby isn't an option. He'll close the deal at any cost – even if it takes a Christmas miracle to prove this playboy is reformed for good!

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Nov 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781489249487

Karen Booth

Karen Booth is a Midwestern girl transplanted in the South, raised on '80s music and way too many readings of “Forever” by Judy Blume. Married to her real-life Jake Ryan, she has two amazing kids with epic hair, a very bratty cat, and loves getting up before dawn to write romance. With plenty of sparks.

Book preview

One

With its French-milled soap, lavender-scented shampoo and soft lighting, the finely appointed bathroom in her Grand Legacy Hotel suite might’ve been the loveliest place Charlotte Locke had ever gotten sick. She closed her eyes, willed herself to stand from the cool comfort of the marble floor and fumbled for her toothbrush. Ten weeks pregnant and mint was one of the few things she found appealing. She scrubbed her teeth clean, straightened her skirt and jacket, and neatened her blond hair. Hopefully, that was the last of today’s morning sickness. She had work to do.

Charlotte marched out of her room, determined. Wish me luck. I’m off to Sawyer’s office, she said to her aunt Fran, who was sharing the suite while in New York from London for Christmas.

Fran tucked a strand from her white-blond bob behind her ear, then refilled her mug with room-service tea. Charlotte’s beloved papillon dog, Thor, nine pounds of snow-white and chocolate-brown attitude, was curled up at Fran’s hip. You won’t need luck. You’re more than qualified to sell the Grand Legacy condos.

Charlotte sighed. Okay, no luck. But she wouldn’t mind some bolstering. How many times had she gone hat-in-hand and asked a family member for another chance? Too many. Charlotte slipped on her wool coat, a lovely shade of peacock blue, and buttoned up. I’m glad you’re so confident. I think I stand about a fifty-fifty chance.

You’re sure you aren’t going to tell Sawyer about the pregnancy? He’s your brother. I don’t see any way he can say no to you if he knows you have a baby on the way.

Charlotte shook her head. I don’t want anyone’s charity. I’m asking him to trust me with millions of dollars of real estate. I don’t want to remind him that his little sister has a habit of making colossal life mistakes.

Fran scratched Thor behind the ear. Everything happens for a reason. It just might not be clear to you yet what that reason is.

I like your optimism, but being accidentally pregnant by a man who doesn’t love me is classic Charlotte. I’m trying to avoid all appearances of the old me. Charlotte leaned down and kissed her aunt’s cheek, then grabbed her gloves and handbag and stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind her.

Each impeccable detail of the Grand Legacy—the plush black carpet with ornate royal blue scrolls, the gleaming chrome-and-glass wall sconces, even the tasteful sign directing guests to their room—was a link to Charlotte’s past. The hotel had been in her family since the 1920s, long before she’d been born. Now it was solely owned by her brother Sawyer, a detail that displeased their father greatly.

She pushed the button for the elevator. Every time she stepped on board, childhood memories of clowning around in the hotel with her brothers played in her head, like an old movie. The ones where she was youngest were the fuzziest, but the happiest. There had been many games of hide-and-seek in these halls, but only when her mother had been alive. As soon as she passed away, their father never wanted her or her brothers to spend any time at all in the hotel.

Good morning, Ms. Locke, a bellman said as she emerged from the elevator.

Morning, she said cheerily. Her heels clicked across the black-and-white marble lobby floor.

Stay warm out there, Ms. Locke, the front desk clerk said.

I’ll try. She pushed her way through the revolving doors and was smacked in the face with a rush of icy air that felt as though it had been shipped in from the north pole. The doorman hustled to show her to the car Sawyer had sent.

Thank you. Charlotte juggled her wallet, a five-dollar bill and her gloves.

That’s not necessary, Ms. Locke. He tried to hand back the tip. Not from you.

Of course it’s necessary. You work hard, and it’s the holidays. She smiled, waved him off and slid into the back seat of the car.

The driver knew exactly where they were headed—downtown to Sawyer’s office in Chelsea. Charlotte had already practiced her pitch several times—awake in bed last night, in the shower that morning. It wasn’t that Sawyer was intimidating. He was anything but. It was more that Charlotte hated to ask for yet another favor. She was already bracing for that look on her brother’s face, the one that said he was hesitant to give her responsibility. She’d done so poorly with it in the past.

Charlotte couldn’t commit any more time or effort to feeling bad about her current situation. Now was the time for action. The car pulled up in front of Sawyer’s office, and she wasted no time climbing out and heading upstairs. Hopefully inertia would be enough to keep her going.

Her brother’s admin, Lily, greeted her warmly. Your brother is waiting. Let me take your coat for you. Remind me when you get out of your meeting and I’ll call another car for you.

Thank you so much. Charlotte smoothed her skirt, trying to ignore the trepidation in her stomach. This was her brother. Sawyer. Everything would be fine. She hoped.

A broad smile crossed Sawyer’s face when she poked her head into his office. There she is.

Waves of relief washed over her. Why she constantly worked herself into a tizzy over things was beyond her. She only knew it was her habit. Hey, Sawyer. Thanks for meeting with me today.

Of course. I’m glad you came in. I feel like I hardly had the chance to speak to you at the grand reopening party at the hotel.

Sorry about that. All sorts of old friends were there. Plus, pregnancy makes a woman all kinds of tired.

I’m just glad you’re back in town. It wouldn’t have felt right not to have you there. Sawyer sat back in his chair. Do you want to tell me what precipitated the surprise junket to see Aunt Fran in England?

Even though she’d prepared for the question, Charlotte blanched at it. So much had led to that trip. It started with the breakup from Michael Kelly, the man she’d fallen hopelessly in love with, the man who was unable to return the feelings. That had been bad enough, and then came the real powder keg—the pregnancy. She couldn’t tell her brother she’d gone to England for those reasons. Charlotte was always falling in love, and it was always getting her into some sort of impossible situation.

I just needed some time to really think out my long-term career goals. Fran is so good at listening and helping with advice. She cleared her throat. Plus, I’ll be honest. It was stressful to watch the way Dad was fighting you on the Grand Legacy renovation. I hate the family rifts.

If I could’ve gone to England with you, I would have. Then again, that might have meant things wouldn’t have worked out with Kendall the way they have. So scratch that. I’m glad I stayed and fought through the Dad situation.

Charlotte smiled. She was happy Sawyer had found someone, and Kendall was a very special someone. Charlotte had worried for many years that their home life had left her and her siblings—Sawyer and their brother Noah—incapable of having normal romantic relationships. The fact that Sawyer had finally broken through that particular Locke family glass ceiling gave her hope that some day she’d do the same. Just not anytime soon—she was no longer looking for love. Stability was her number one quest. I’m really happy for you and Kendall. I’m so looking forward to the wedding. I love the idea of a wedding at Christmastime.

I know it’s soon, but we didn’t want to wait. Call us old-fashioned, but we both want to tie the knot before the baby arrives.

Sure. Wouldn’t want your little boy or girl to do the math later in life and figure out you were married after the fact. Charlotte couldn’t believe what was coming out of her own mouth. She sounded like her grandmother. Maybe she was just as old-fashioned as her brother. She’d be putting an end to that soon, though, with her very single status while welcoming a new life into the world.

So, tell me about these long-term career goals. You aren’t considering a change from real estate, are you?

This was a valid question where Charlotte was concerned. The number of careers she’d had in her twenties was enough to make anyone’s head spin—interior designer, fashion blogger, party planner, cupcake maven. That last one had been the most disastrous. Charlotte couldn’t cook to save her life and she’d gained fifteen pounds tasting buttercream all day long.

Nope. It’s still the right career for me. It’s a natural fit with the real-estate development and hotel interests in our family. It allows me to work with people, which I love doing. And the good side of having had so many false starts with various careers is that I’ve made a ton of contacts. Watch me make lemonade with my arms full of lemons.

I’m glad to hear you’ve settled on it. That stability will be good for you.

Exactly. Stability. Charlotte sucked in a deep breath. Here goes nothing. And that’s why I’m here. Now that you’ve put the finishing touches on the Grand Legacy condos, I’m hoping you’ll let me have the listings. Charlotte couldn’t help but notice how her brother’s expression had fallen. She had to make her case now, or lose out. I know the building better than any agent you could possibly work with. You know that it will have my full attention, and more than anything, it will give us a chance to work closely together, which is something I’ve always wanted to do.

But, Charlotte...you can’t just pop in here and ask for the listings now. I’ve been working on this for months. This is so like you to throw a wrench in things at the eleventh hour.

Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly plan on getting pregnant. I know. I’m sorry about the timing, but nobody expected the units to be ready now. Your original opening date was New Year’s Eve. That’s still several weeks away.

Sawyer pressed his lips together firmly, seeming deep in thought. I already have an agent lined up. A fantastic one who will most likely sell every unit in a matter of weeks. He’s on his way over right now to discuss strategy and to get the paperwork straightened away.

But... Charlotte had already discharged her only arguments. She didn’t really have any other means of selling herself. She was, as always, an unproven proposition. I’m family. Surely that counts for something. It’s the Grand Legacy. This isn’t some random building you and Noah decided to sink money into. She could see Sawyer’s eyes soften and she knew she had to open up her heart. I love the hotel so much, and being there over the last few days has been amazing. Isn’t it important to have someone who really, truly cares?

You don’t know that this other agent doesn’t care. I’ve had multiple conversations with Michael Kelly about this over the last few months and I can tell you that he absolutely cares.

Charlotte’s heart had stopped beating. Or at least it felt that way. Unwanted visions of Michael popped into her head—all six feet and six inches of his trim and muscled swimmer’s body. He might have crushed her heart, but he’d looked good doing it, with his thick, dark hair she loved to comb her fingers through, and magnetic blue eyes she could get lost in for days. Michael Kelly? Seriously?

Do you know him? He’s a really good guy. Straight shooter. He cares a lot. He’s told me so.

Charlotte blew out a breath. Michael Kelly cared, all right—about himself, money and his job. Everyone else was going to have to fend for themselves.

* * *

Michael knew he didn’t have much more time in the pool this morning. Just a few more laps. He touched the tile wall with his hand and took his turn, propelling himself through the water, beneath the surface, to return to the other end.

The rhythm of swimming relaxed him. After tens of thousands of hours spent in the pool, his muscles knew exactly what to do, and he could give his brain some space to roam. This was the only time during his day that he was unreachable, his cell phone turned off and tucked away in his personal locker at the brand-new Empire State Athletic Club, an expensive and exclusive replacement for the old Downtown Athletic Club, which had been converted to apartments years ago. He loved this sliver of his day, when he had a chance to unplug. Owning and running the top residential real-estate agency in the city, The Kelly Group, meant that he was otherwise expected to be available 24/7, 365 days a year.

He made another turn and switched to freestyle, the stroke that had won him three Olympic golds. He always ended his swim this way. It was a powerful reminder of what had once been, of everything he’d worked so hard for and, most important, what it felt like to win. Coming out on top was a high unlike any other, and after his retirement from swimming six years ago, he’d been working his butt off in real estate just to get a taste of that feeling. He lived for that moment when you’re invincible, standing at the top of the mountain, looking down at everyone else that couldn’t match up to you. There was no roar of the crowd or medals awarded in real estate, but the money helped. And there had been a lot of it, not that there wasn’t always more to earn.

He skimmed along in the water at the end of his final lap, came to the surface, pulled off his swim cap and tossed it onto the pool deck. He scooped water into his hair and hoisted himself up out of the pool, grabbing his towel. There was one other person still in the pool—Gabe Underwood. Gabe had taken up swimming a year ago, when he also set his sights on knocking Michael from his perch of top-selling real-estate agent in Manhattan. Gabe certainly knew he wasn’t in the same league as Michael when it came to the sport that had won him Olympic medals, but he insisted that he wanted to remind Michael that he was on his heels and closing in.

It was annoying, but Michael couldn’t stop the guy from swimming laps at the same time he did. They were both members of the club, and all the money in the world wasn’t going to help Michael put an Olympic swimming pool in a Manhattan apartment. That would have to be for later in life, when he retired out in the Hamptons or Connecticut.

Michael trailed into the locker room and quickly took a shower. The hot water felt fantastic on his muscles. There was definitely a part of him that could have stood beneath the spray for a long period of time, but he had to be on his way. Sawyer Locke and the Grand Legacy apartments were waiting. Towel wrapped around his waist, Michael made his way into the dressing area, where his suit was waiting, freshly pressed by the club staff. His black leather Italian wingtips had been given a polish as well.

I beat my own time today, Kelly. I’m making big progress. Gabe’s voice grated on Michael like little else.

Yeah? Good for you. Like I care. He went ahead with getting dressed, hoping Gabe would take a hint, hit the showers and leave him the hell alone.

Just like I’m closing in on you in sales. With everything I have lined up for January and February, I’m very close to replacing you as the top agent in the city next year. I have to say, it’ll be a sweet reward and very well-earned.