CEO Daddy Read online

  CEO Daddy

  Taryn Quinn

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  They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  CEO Daddy

  © 2019 Taryn Quinn

  Rainbow Rage Publishing

  Cover by LateNite Designs

  Photograph by Sara Eirew

  Model Mike Chabot

  All Rights Are Reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First ebook edition: September 2019

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  Forever begins in nine months…

  New Year’s Eve, a time for new beginnings.

  And in my case? The time to lose my virginity.

  Asher is a little older than me and a successful, wealthy businessman.

  We agreed on no last names and no numbers.

  Just pleasure.

  Little did I know he needed that escape as much as I did. He’s the only one who can save his family’s publishing empire.

  Which I discovered when I was hired by Asher’s grandmother as his nanny. Yet another thing I didn’t know—that he was a single father, raising his best friend’s baby girl.

  He desperately needs my help with his new daughter, Lily. Even if he isn’t sure at first that he wants it.

  But I have a secret too.

  I’m carrying Asher’s baby.

  The only question is if he will fight for me and our child like he’s fighting for his company. Or if I’ll have to walk away to protect what’s mine.

  Including my heart.

  Author’s note: CEO DADDY is a standalone single father and virgin nanny forced proximity romance novel set in our Crescent Cove world. It has a happily-ever-after ending.

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  Epilogue Part Two

  Crescent Cove Character Chart

  Taryn Quinn

  Quinn and Elliott

  About Taryn Quinn

  Acknowledgments

  Sometimes we make up fictional places that end up having the same names as actual places. These are our fictional interpretations only. Please grant us leeway if our creative vision isn't true to reality.

  For those who step up even when you think it’s impossible to find your way out of the sadness.

  One

  I might be single and alone on New Year’s Eve. But I’m not woe as me. No, ma’am. I’m looking at this moment as an opportunity to cherish my solitude.

  With a sigh, I set down my pen and picked up my water glass. I should be drinking alcohol at least. Maybe I still would. I wasn’t much of a wine fan, but I could use tonight to broaden my horizons. A cocktail sounded nice. Very adult.

  A drink I could enjoy happily on my own.

  Okay, cut the crap. In my diary, I should be honest. The diary I was writing in while I ate my dinner of consommé—fancy soup essentially—and garlic breadsticks, because who was I going to kiss at midnight? No one.

  Joyfully solo, that was me.

  In reality, I was fresh off another broken Tinder date. Broken by me, no less. I could never quite close the deal. Probably because a date with me held more weight than the usual hookup.

  I’d been adult about that too. Virginity was a burden, so I’d just rid myself of it quickly and quietly. No fuss. Until the time came to actually meet Joe Blow in the flesh—yes, that was his name on the site—and I’d balked. I’d made up an excuse about getting together with an ex and that had been that.

  As if I had any exes. Just a few high school boyfriends who hadn’t amounted to much.

  Since then, I’d stuck close to home, the dutiful older sister who raised her younger siblings after our parents had died in a plane crash. Now that the twins, Emma and Rachel, had turned nineteen and gone off to college, that left me at loose ends.

  Alone for real.

  “Can I get you anything else? Maybe you’d like a look-see at the dessert menu? The lemon bars are my favorite. They’re my mama’s recipe.”

  I blinked up at the grinning blond waitress. At least I thought she was a waitress, though she had a more commanding air about her despite her small town friendliness. “Your mama works here too?”

  “Not anymore. She used to own the joint. Then she retired and sold it out from under me with no warning, but I got it back because of my lovable pain-in-the-ass baby daddy. Well, husband too. So, lemon bars?”

  I rubbed my temple. Whoa, information overload. “You have a husband? You look…youthful.”

  Luckily, I’d managed not to say she looked twelve, which was a misstatement in any case. She looked at least sixteen. But not old enough to be married, at least in New York.

  She laughed and sat down opposite me at the table. “Sure do.”

  “And a baby.”

  “Yeah, she’s not even a year old yet. Star’s the light of my life. Want to see?” She was already tugging a folding wallet of pictures—many, many pictures—out of her apron pocket.

  “Um, sure?”

  She showed me an array of photos of a chubby baby with bright green eyes and a drooly smile.

  “She’s beautiful. Her hair is so dark.”

  “Like Oliver’s. Unless it changes. I hope it doesn’t. It’s my ace in the hole I wasn’t impregnated by the milkman.”

  Unsure if she was serious, I smiled faintly. “I think I’ll try those lemon bars, please.”

  She nodded enthusiastically and bustled off to the kitchen. She seemed sweet.

  Everyone in Crescent Cove was sweet. It was a picturesque village, nestled against the long curve of Crescent Lake. At the holidays, the place really shone.

  The big formal banquet room I was seated in was jammed with guests. Most were families, along with a good amount of couples and solo businessmen passing through the area due to the proximity to Syracuse. I lived in between Crescent Cove and Syracuse, in a town so tiny you could miss it if you shut your eyes.

  Which you shouldn’t do while driving, especially in the fall and winter. We were in deer and wild turkey country.

  Spending New Year’s Eve in Crescent Cove was a luxury. I didn’t have the funds to spare on such things, but I’d asked for money for Christmas from my sisters and my bestie just so I could splurge.

  Now I was wondering if it was a huge mistake.

  I’d thought I would feel less on my own in a crowd.

  Wrong.

  I’d had to wait a half hour for this table. There was holiday music playing, and cheerful lights twinkling, and every surface seemed to be decked out with candles and poinsettias and big satin red ribbons. People were laughing and enjoying time with the
ir loved ones.

  And I was scribbling lies in my diary about how I didn’t mind that my sisters had chosen to return to campus early rather than hang out with their big sister. That I wasn’t at all jealous my bestie had a date for New Year’s with a guy she worked with.

  Worst of all? The prospect of homemade lemon bars excited me more than the gorgeous fireplace suite I’d reserved to spend the evening—you guessed it—alone.

  “Here you go. I gave you an extra one. On holidays, calories don’t count.” The blond proprietress smiled and set the plate in front of me. “Can I get you anything else?”

  “Yes, actually, you can. I’d like some champagne, please.”

  “Oh, sure.” She nodded as if it wasn’t weird at all I was ordering champagne with lemon bars after drinking water since I’d sat down. “Flute or bottle for the table?”

  Did she know something I didn’t? Was it usual for women dining alone to drink a whole bottle of bubbly? Maybe on New Year’s Eve, anything went.

  “Bottle for the table, please.” The deep voice barely registered. In fact, I didn’t even look to see the owner. He couldn’t be speaking for my table. I definitely didn’t know anyone who sounded like that.

  Hello, man, not a boy.

  The blond shifted away from me and I dazedly followed her gaze to where one of the businessman I’d noticed earlier stood beside the chair opposite me. I hadn’t seen his face, just the tidy queue of dark hair on his neck as he was seated. A solo diner, just like me.

  Unlike me, he hadn’t been writing in a journal with flowers on the tattered cover. No, he’d been flipping through a thick sheaf of paperwork, and he’d barely looked up long enough to order.

  I hadn’t seen his face, but he’d seen mine. Or else he was in the habit of joining strangers once the alcohol was served. Judging by his well-cut pinstriped dark suit and fancy Italian leather briefcase, he wasn’t hurting for money. I preferred looking at those things rather than his features. If his looks matched up with his voice—

  Well, let’s just say I wasn’t in any shape to handle that level of disappointment once he rethought his decision. Because, seriously? Why did he want to sit with me?

  “Oh.” The blond smiled. “Are you joining her?” She glanced at me. “Dinner date?”

  Normally, the blond’s presumptuousness might have irritated me, but it felt as if she was on my side. Like she was making sure I wanted this guy to sit at my table. I must be giving off vibes that I did not know this dude. No matter how handsome he was and how important he seemed, a woman had to be careful.

  “Two people eating alone on New Year’s Eve should eat together.” His deep voice caused a tingle low in my belly. “Sage, you know I’m harmless.” His smile was anything but.

  The blond—Sage—raised an eyebrow. “So said Ted Bundy.” She smiled sweetly and shifted to glance at me. “Your call.”

  He switched his briefcase to the other hand, allowing me to see the bundle of winter tulips he also held, wrapped with a burlap bow and with pine greenery overflowing the colorful tissue paper. Tulips were a weakness of mine, and I’d never seen a winter bouquet of them before.

  As if he’d noticed me staring at them, he held them out as additional incentive. “For you.”

  I borrowed a page from Sage’s book and lifted an eyebrow, saying nothing. But I accepted the flowers. I was no dummy, and the tulips were gorgeous. I could already imagine them in the center of my table at home, cheering me up as I experimented in the kitchen. The pale reds, pinks, and yellows were perfect.

  “He can sit.”

  Sage nodded. “Would you like anything else besides the bottle of champagne?”

  “A cup of coffee for me, please.” His smile was easy and self-assured, and he never looked away from me as he took the seat opposite me at the table.

  Sage left us alone with a waggle of her brows.

  “Friend of yours?” I set the bouquet of tulips in my lap and drew a nail through the powdered sugar beneath the lemon bars on my plate. I rued not redoing my nail polish for tonight. The silver was chipped at the edges. Surely, a man like him would notice.

  “Oh, Sage? No, not exactly, although we’ve met a few times. I make it a point to eat here when I’m in town. Something I’ll be doing a lot more soon.”

  He paused as Sage brought over the bottle of champagne and two glasses. She popped the cork and poured for us both, then left us alone again. A moment later, she brought Asher’s coffee, which he largely ignored.

  I picked up my glass, clinked with my new dinner guest, and sipped. The bubbly went straight to my head as it always did, so I set the glass down.

  He was still watching me, his lips curved ever so slightly. He hadn’t taken a drink yet.

  “I’m Asher,” he said as the silence extended uncomfortably. Somehow our personal silence was much more noticeable because of all the excited chatter around us.

  “Hannah.”

  “Nice to meet you. What brings you here tonight of all nights?”

  “I didn’t want to sit alone at home.” Nice one, Hannah. Can you sound any more pathetic? “It’s a night for parties and fun.” I saluted him with my champagne and drank.

  Heat flowed out from my belly through my limbs. I couldn’t decide if I liked the sensation or not. Or maybe the heat was from Asher’s gaze. His eyes weren’t as dark as I’d originally believed. With the candle flickering between us, I’d guess now they were a warm hazel, perhaps varying depending on his clothing.

  Apparently, his black pinstriped suit didn’t offer any appreciable change to them. But whoa nelly, that suit was working wonders on me.

  Maybe three-piece suits really were the equivalent to lingerie for a woman. His was definitely revving my motor.

  Revving everything.

  “So, do you have plans after this? A party perhaps, or some other kind of fun?” He ran his fingertip along the rim of his glass.

  “How old are you?” I blurted.

  His dark brows drew together. “Thirty-two in March.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Is that a good hmm or a bad hmm?”

  “I’m twenty-three. I’ve never…” I took a deep breath. Try not to embarrass yourself again. “Well, this is just sharing some lemon bars and champagne, right?”

  “That’s up to you. Why don’t we start with some conversation and go from there?” His slow smile only served to stir me up even more.

  Relax in this gorgeous, commanding man’s presence? Not likely.

  “Sure. Let’s begin with why you came over to my table.” I picked up my dessert fork and cut off the corner of one of my lemon bars, belatedly remembering he didn’t have one. Sage hadn’t brought over another plate.

  By accident or design? Even without knowing her well, I could easily see her as the matchmaking type.

  “Sorry, it’s rude of me to eat when you don’t have anything. Here.” I set down the fork and lifted the plate toward him, swallowing deeply as he pushed aside the vase and the flickering candle to make room for the plate between us.

  “We can share.” His fingers brushed mine as he broke off a corner and lifted it to his mouth.

  His perfect mouth. His lips were neither too full or too sparse. Just right.

  As everything he possessed seemed to be. And I hadn’t even gotten a look at him beneath the waist.

  Probably good. I didn’t need to be any more intimidated, especially by pinstriped thirty-two-year-old cocks. I was already freaked out enough.

  Hello, out of my league.

  “No fork?” I asked a little breathlessly. He seemed the fork-and-knife-at-all-times type to me.

  “Nah. Fingers are better. See?” He broke off another piece and lifted it across the table to me, not dropping so much as a crumb. “Lean forward.”

  I obliged him and his fingertips brushed my lips as he fed me the treat. His voice was entrancing. I was afraid to imagine all the things he could make me do with just one of those husky commands.

&nbs
p; His eyes held me in his thrall so completely that I barely noticed the burst of lemon as I swallowed. The bars were a delicious mix of sweet and tart, but I probably wouldn’t have noticed if the dessert had been undercooked and bland.

  “Good?”

  I nodded and he repeated the move several more times. He wasn’t even eating himself, just feeding me. He had long, elegant fingers with a surprising bit of ink swirling down his hands. The bold Roman numerals and heavy, old typeface of a latin phrase were mixed with a bit of artistry.

  So incongruous to the buttoned-up businessman. It somehow made him even hotter.

  Once, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Sage start to approach with the bill in hand. She took in what was occurring at our shadowy table, widened her eyes, and sped off in the opposite direction.

  I would’ve laughed had I not been so turned on that I could barely think.

  What was happening here? We weren’t even talking. Was this what occurred when under the influence of a lonely holiday meant for couples and some expensive champagne? I’d had a couple more sips in between rounds of Asher feeding me. Big, bolstering sips. The kind that made a normally shy, awkward woman feel bold.