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But only for a moment.
He got up from the table, nearly knocking his chair over, and hurried around to reach Emma. She’d barely gotten out of her seat when he swept her up in a crushing hug. His face was red with the effort of restraining his emotions, but he finally gave in, crying happy tears against her head. “Oh, Emma. My sweet girl.”
I jumped up too, my own eyes watering. Emma stepped back from her father and met my extended arms with her own. She hugged me tight, her chest hitching with happy sobs. “The last round implanted—well, one of them did.”
Neil held out his hand to Michael, but brought him in for a hug instead. I never thought I’d see Neil happy that Horrible Michael had laid a hand on his precious daughter, and that added to my elated giggles. Maybe the fact that it had been an IVF conception had allowed him to remain in a state of denial.
He hugged Emma again, an arm around her shoulders. “I’m in shock right now. I’m going to be a grandfather.”
“Yes, you are,” Emma agreed proudly. Then she directed a very stern glare at her father. “No puppies under the Christmas tree.”
“Twenty. I will give this baby an entire legion of puppies. This is going to be the single most spoiled child in America,” Neil vowed.
“Hey,” Michael said with a wide grin at some realization. A realization that rolled out in one terrible, bone-chilling sentence: “Sophie, you’ll be a grandma!”
I sensed a very stiff drink in my future.
I sensed six or seven very stiff drinks in my future.
But weird family stuff was what I signed on for, and I’d known that coming in to Neil’s life. What the hell. If they thought it was funny to call me a twenty-six-year-old grandma, let them.
The Birkin would make a great diaper bag.
Sophie and Neil will return in
THE EX
Spring, 2015
THE HOOK-UP
Author’s note: What follows is the missing scene of Neil’s encounter with Emir in London. It was originally written as a sneak peek/Holiday present for readers of the series, and is also available as a stand-alone e-book.
I should have been embarrassed at the schoolboy thrill I got whenever I saw my mobile light up with an incoming call from Sophie, but it couldn’t be helped. All I had to do was think about her— and I rarely stopped thinking about her— and I wasn’t Neil Elwood, billionaire, but Neil Elwood, befuddled teenager.
Which can be damned unfortunate in the middle of an important meeting one has flown five-thousand kilometers to sit in on. No matter how discreetly I tried to check the number of the incoming call, someone would notice that the most important person in the room had ceased paying attention.
Across the conference table, Valerie tilted her head, her expression never changing as she stared me down. It is one of the more effective techniques in her arsenal. It told me I was caught, and in for the scolding of a lifetime.
I tried to sound apologetic— and not relieved— at the interruption. “Pardon me. Terribly sorry, but I do have to take this.” I looked to Valerie. Her pleasant, neutral smile that never reached her eyes warned me that I would be hearing about this later. For Sophie, I would take my chances. “Please, do go on without me.”
Before Valerie could protest, I slipped out and rounded the corner to my outer office. I answered the call as the door closed behind me, and held up one finger as I passed my assistant’s desk, indicating I was unavailable at the moment.
“Darling, what a surprise. It’s nearly… well, it’s about six in the morning there, isn’t it?” As if I had to do the calculations. I spent every moment away from her thinking about what she might be doing; Sophie’s probably sleeping right now. Sophie’s probably having dinner right now. Sophie is probably putting lotion on those beautiful feet right now and would she think it odd if I were to ask to jack off onto them?
She yawned, and I was brought immediately to our bed in New York, her warm, naked body curled up beside mine. Only one more night, and I would be home. That did little to ease the aching loneliness in my chest.
“I wanted to catch you at lunch,” she sighed sleepily. “I know you’re going to be busy later.”
“Yes, quite.” I pulled the door to my private office closed and went to sit behind my desk. My calendar was open on the computer screen. There, in blue, blocked out from eight to nine, was “Dinner.” Dinner with Emir, our acquaintance from the private BDSM club Sophie and I had visited in Paris. Dinner and a bit more, if the evening leaned in that direction.
“You have to promise to call and tell me all about it as soon as you can,” Sophie purred. Her voice, God in heaven, the low, feminine alto was like the idle of a Ferrari 458 Italia. Although in arguments, I’d heard her speaking tone pitch as high as a revving Lamborghini Aventador.
Just the sound of her voice got my cock up.
“I’ll tell you, if there is anything to tell. We didn’t make any firm plans,” I reminded her. “If the dynamic is strange without you, it won’t be anything beyond a pleasant dinner with a casual friend.”
“Well, I hope the dynamic is amazing, and you have a really good time.” Her sleepy laugh might as well have been a hand cupping my balls.
