Something was going on.
Lilaâs silver Subaru was parked in its usual spot in the concrete driveway. But it was far too early for her to be arriving home from work. James gave up the pretense of painting and watched as she got out of the car.
She was tall and curvy and had long blond curls that no amount of hair spray could tame. Lila had the body of a pinup girl and the brains of an accountant, a lethal combo. Then came his second clue that things were out of kilter. Lila was wearing jeans and a windbreaker. On a Monday.
He could have ignored all of that. Honestly, he was fine with the status quo. Lila had her job as vice president of the local bank, and James had the pleasure of dating women who were uncomplicated.
As he watched, Lila closed the driverâs door and opened the passenger door. Leaning in, she gave him a tantalizing view of a nicely rounded behind. Heâd always had a thing for butts. Lilaâs was first-class.
Suddenly, all thoughts of butts and sex and his long-ago love affair with his frustrating neighbor flew out the window.
Because when Lila straightened, she was holding a baby.
* * *
For Babyâs Sake is part of Mills & Boon Desireâs No. 1 bestselling series, Billionaires and Babies: Powerful men ⦠wrapped around their babiesâ little fingers.
One
James Kavanagh liked working with his hands. Unlike his oldest brother, Liam, who spent his days wearing an Italian tailored suit, James was most comfortable in old jeans and T-shirts. Truth be told, it was a good disguise. No one expected a rich man to look like a guy who labored for a paycheck.
That was fine with James. He didnât need people sucking up to him because he was a Kavanagh. He wanted to be judged on his own merits. Sure, he was entitled to a share of the family fortune. And yes, heâd added to that considerable pot with his own endeavors.
But at the end of the day, a man was only as rich as his reputation.
At the moment, James was painting the soffits on his own house in the heart of Silver Glen, North Carolina. The 1920s bungalow was a beauty; original hardwood floors, large windows that let in plenty of light and a front porch that was made for enjoying warm summer evenings.
Of course, summer was little more than a memory now. Before long, it would be time to put up the Christmas lights. When heâd thought about tackling that chore, he realized he had some peeling paint that needed attention. Such was the life of a carpenter. He poured most of his man-hours into renovating other peopleâs homes. His own place came way down the list.
As he dipped his paintbrush in the can balanced precariously on the top of the ladder, something disturbed his concentration. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement at the house next door. Lilaâs house. A house he once knew all too well.
It didnât matter. He was over her. Completely. The two of them had been a fire that burned hot and bright, leaving only ashes. It was for the best. Lila was too uptight, too driven, too everything.
Still, something was going on. Lilaâs silver Subaru was parked in its usual spot in the concrete driveway. But it was far too early for her to be arriving home from work. He gave up the pretense of painting and watched as she got out of the car.
She was tall and curvy and had long blond curls that no amount of hair spray could tame. Lila had the body of a pinup girl and the brains of an accountantâa lethal combo. Then came his second clue that things were out of kilter. Lila was wearing jeans and a Windbreaker. On a Monday.
He could have ignored all of that. Honestly, he was fine with the status quo. Lila had her job as vice president of the local bank, and James had the pleasure of dating women who were uncomplicated. Not bimbos. He had his standards, after all. There was nothing wrong, though, with a guy having fun.
Did it matter if his most recent girlfriend thought Kazakhstan was a new heavy metal band? Not every woman had to be a rocket scientist.
As he watched, Lila closed the driverâs door and opened the door to the backseat. Leaning in, she gave him a tantalizing view of a nicely rounded ass. Heâd always had a thing for butts. Lilaâs was first-class.