Oh Baby: A Holiday Novella (Wolf Pack Book 9) Read online

  Praise for the Contemporary Romance Novels

  of USA Today Bestselling Author Maureen Smith

  “Smith is a master crafter of sensually robust, endearing, and page-turning romantic fiction” — USA Today on Inferno

  “Maureen Smith has a special gift with words” — Brenda Jackson, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author

  “A highly entertaining story with elements of comedy, cooking, intense sexual chemistry and hot romance” — Romantic Times on Recipe for Temptation, Top Pick

  “…a light, funny romance that has you cheering for the hero and heroine to be together…a must read!” — Urban Reviews on Recipe for Temptation

  “…once you’ve dived in with both feet, falling in love with this couple and watching them on their journey back to each other is riveting, endearing, and addictive” — USA Today on Seducing the Wolf

  “…a spicy Chicago entrée with erotic seasoning” — Library Journal on Whatever You Like

  “…a spicy boy-meets-girl tale that will keep you turning the pages…Make sure you wear flame-proof gloves!” — Romantic Times on Whatever You Like

  “…reintroduces a family that is as enticing and raucous as it gets” — Romantic Times on Any Way You Want It

  “The sex scenes are steamy and primal, and readers will want to read them again and again” — Romantic Times on Tempt Me at Midnight

  “…one of those books that does everything right. The characters are likable, the story moves at a brisk pace, and the chemistry between the hero and heroine is red hot” — Romance Reviews Today on A Guilty Affair

  “Smith does a masterful job bringing Warrick and Raina from sworn enemies to lovers, and the trip is so intriguing the story is hard to put down!” — Romantic Times on Touch of Heaven, Top Pick

  OH BABY

  Copyright © 2017 by Maureen Smith

  Published by Wordsmith Enterprises

  Cover Design: Lorrent Smith

  First Electronic Edition: January 2017

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For questions and comments about this book, please contact Maureen Smith at [email protected]. Visit her official website at www.maureen-smith.com.

  Contents

  Reviews

  Copyright

  Wolf Pack Family Tree

  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

  Also by Maureen Smith

  About the Author

  Author’s Note

  This heartwarming holiday tale takes place two years

  after the events of This I Promise You

  1

  Atlanta, Georgia

  December 2015

  Samara wolf strolled toward the elegant glass office building that housed the Atlanta-based division of House of Dubois. She was humming Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas Is You,” the last song that had been playing on the radio before she got out of her car.

  She removed her sunglasses as she stepped through the revolving glass door. The main lobby had stark white marble walls and floors threaded with gold veins. Tiny lights twinkled festively on a fifty-foot white Christmas tree that soared to the ceiling.

  The large reception desk was manned by an attractive security guard wearing a well-cut black suit and black tie.

  He beamed at Samara. “Good morning, Mrs. Wolf. And how are you doing this fine day?”

  Samara smiled. “I’m doing well, Van. Thank you for asking.”

  “Of course, ma’am.” He smiled. “The garage renovations are almost complete, so you won’t have to use the outdoor parking lot much longer.”

  “Oh, it hasn’t been too bad.” Samara grinned sheepishly. “I’ve got a spot right in front of the building, so I have no business complaining.”

  “Not that you ever would. Complaining’s not your style.” The security guard smiled warmly and tipped his head to her. “Have a good day, Mrs. Wolf.”

  “Thanks, Van. You, too.” Samara’s stiletto heels clicked across the gleaming marble floor as she strode to the bank of elevators and pressed the up button.

  She resumed humming to herself while she waited for the next elevator. Christmas was exactly three weeks away, and she was definitely in the holiday spirit. She’d finished all her Christmas shopping early, the tree was trimmed and decorated, and the stockings were hung on the mantel with everyone’s names scrawled across the top in silver glitter—courtesy of her nine-year-old twins Matthew and Malcolm. Her hubby, Marcus, had strung lights on the house, trees, shrubs, and along the circular driveway. At night their sprawling estate looked like a Christmas village aglow with thousands of twinkling lights.

  Samara smiled as she rode the elevator to the top floor and emerged into an elegant reception area decorated in icy white. The fashionably dressed receptionist greeted her with a cheerful “Good morning, Samara.”

  “Good morning, Emma,” Samara said warmly. “Is my mother here yet?”

  “Not yet, ma’am. Would you like me to call her driver to see if they’re en route to the office?”

  “No, that’s okay. I’ll just wait until she gets here.” Samara headed off down the maze of corridors, passing plushly carpeted offices that were mostly empty.

  She was usually one of the first to arrive, preferring to start her workday early so that she could leave at a decent hour to get home to her three children. Although she had the luxury of not working, she enjoyed putting her Wharton MBA to good use. But there were times that she felt torn between her high-powered career and motherhood. Those were the days she hugged her children extra long and hard when she got home, caressing their sweet faces and hanging on every word that tumbled out of their little mouths.

  She reached her glass-fronted office at the end of a long corridor and unlocked the door. Her name and title were etched on the frosted glass: samara wolf, vice president of marketing.

  Stepping into the room, she removed her cashmere wrap and hung it in the small closet by the door. The spacious office featured a posh, ultramodern décor befitting an executive at one of the world’s top fashion houses. The artwork and furnishings were high-end, and enormous picture windows boasted sweeping views of downtown Atlanta.

  Samara would have been perfectly content with a much smaller office, but her mother had insisted that she take the plush corner suite.

  No VP of mine is working out of some cubbyhole, Asha had declared in that imperious way of hers. Especially not a VP who will inherit this company one day!

  Samara had learned to pick her battles wisely when it came to her mother. So she’d capitulated and moved into the lavishly appointed office, adding personal touches here and there to make it her own.

  Just as she sat down behind her sleek glass desk, her smiling assistant appeared with her morning coffee, crossing the room to hand her the s
teaming cup.

  “Thank you, Brianna.” Samara inhaled the fragrant aroma of the coffee and sighed appreciatively, then set the cup down without taking a sip.

  Brianna arched a brow at her. “Is everything okay?”

  Samara smiled. “Everything’s fine. Just letting it cool.”

  Brianna sat in one of the plush visitor chairs angled in front of Samara’s desk. The beautiful twenty-nine-year-old had a café-au-lait complexion and shoulder-length dark hair streaked with caramel highlights. She looked ultra chic in a belted gray jumpsuit from Asha’s fall collection. The stylish outfit was paired with metallic leather ankle boots.

  Ten years ago, Samara had been working at a nonprofit community organization in Washington, D.C. when she met Brianna, a pregnant teenager in need of help and guidance. Samara had mentored her and given her a job that enabled her to support herself and her daughter. Shortly after relocating to Atlanta with her husband, Samara had persuaded Brianna to join her there to make a fresh start in a new place. It turned out to be the best move for the young single mother. She’d earned a college degree and was now happily married to Byron Devers, a senior associate at Marcus’s law firm.

  Brianna picked up her sleek tablet and tapped the screen with a manicured fingertip. “We’re all set for the videoconference with the buyers at nine o’clock.”

  “What about Barneys and Saks?”

  “Yes,” Brianna confirmed. “Everyone will be in attendance.”

  “Good,” Samara said briskly. “We need all the major players at the table.”

  Brianna nodded before continuing her rundown of Samara’s busy schedule. “Your Vogue interview is at ten-thirty, which should leave you just enough time to get down to the photo—” She was interrupted by the ringing of Samara’s smartphone on the desk.

  When Samara picked up the phone and saw her husband’s darkly handsome picture on the screen, her lips curved into a delighted smile.

  Brianna grinned knowingly and rose from her chair. “I’ll come back later.”

  Samara winked at her before pressing the answer button and purring into the phone, “Hey, you.”

  “Hey, baby.” Marcus’s deep, dark voice slid into her ear and sent a tingle of awareness to her already-sensitive nipples. “Just wanted to make sure you got to work safely.”

  “I did.” Samara smiled, warmed by his protectiveness. “Are the boys up yet?”

  “Yeah. They’re downstairs eating breakfast. I’m about to get Milan up.” Marcus was the founder and CEO of one of the top law firms in the country. Since the birth of their daughter, he’d been cutting back on the long hours he worked and delegating more responsibilities to his senior partners. When he learned that their sons’ private school would be closed today, he’d volunteered to take off from work to spend the day with the boys and three-year-old Milan. He was taking them to Legoland, one of their favorite places to visit.

  Samara sighed. “I wish I could have played hooky, too. If I didn’t have to oversee this photo shoot for our new fragrance launch, I would have gone with you guys.”

  Marcus chuckled. “Then it wouldn’t be a Daddy’s Day outing.”

  “True.” Samara grinned, leaning back in her chair. “Have Michael, Manning or Quentin tried to back out?”

  “Nah,” Marcus said with a laugh. “They’re still coming.”

  “That’s good. You fellas are gonna have your hands full with ten children,” Samara teased.

  “It’s all good. This isn’t our first Daddy’s Day outing, and it won’t be the last.”

  Samara felt her heart swell with the fullness of her love and appreciation for him. How had she gotten so damn lucky?

  “Make sure you dress Milan warmly,” she reminded him. “The high is only supposed to be fifty-nine today, so she needs—”

  “Babe,” Marcus interrupted, sounding amused. “I got this.”

  “Sorry,” Samara said sheepishly.

  “Uh-huh. You just can’t help yourself.”

  “I know.” She grinned, dropping her voice to a suggestive murmur. “If you’re not too worn out tonight, maybe we can have some grown-up time after we put the kids to bed.”

  “Sounds good,” Marcus drawled wickedly. “Can never have too much grown-up time.”

  “I agree,” Samara purred. “So it’s a date?”

  “Absolutely.” The single husky word went straight between her thighs, causing her to shiver and bite her lip.

  “Well, I’d better get back to work,” she murmured. “You and the kids have fun today.”

  “We will,” Marcus promised. “Love you, baby.”

  “Love you, too.” Samara was smiling from ear to ear as she ended the call and set her phone down on the desk.

  She heard voices outside her door and glanced up just as her mother swept into the room. Asha looked gorgeous and flawlessly glamorous in a cream coatdress that accentuated her hourglass curves, the collar stylishly turned up.

  “Good morning, Mom,” Samara greeted her.

  “Hello, darling.” The luxurious carpet swallowed all sound from Asha’s pointed-toe stilettos as she crossed the room and kissed Samara on both cheeks, then drew back and ran an approving eye over her nude midi dress and matching nude pumps. “You’re looking very lovely this morning.”

  “Thanks, Mom. So are you.” Asha Dubois-Wolf couldn’t look bad if she tried.

  Her secretary hovered by the door, holding Asha’s python leather satchel and cashmere shawl. “Can I bring you some coffee or tea, ma’am?”

  “Not yet,” Asha declined, peeling off her elbow-length leather gloves. “Can you make sure the conference room is ready for the shareholders’ meeting at eight?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The secretary turned and hurried off to do her boss’s bidding.

  Sighing, Asha perched on the edge of Samara’s desk and crossed her long legs, winding them around each other with the graceful elegance that was her trademark.

  “If I didn’t have that meeting this morning, I would have stayed home with Sterling,” she confided with a naughty gleam in her eyes. “Lord knows that man didn’t make it easy for me to leave the bed this morning.”

  Samara laughed. “Uh, thanks for sharing.”

  Asha grinned unabashedly, patting her sleekly coiffed black hair. She and her husband had more sex than many couples half their age. It was ridiculous, but totally in a good way.

  Smiling, Samara picked up a tiny remote control and pressed a button that made the glass walls of her office turn opaque.

  “Emma says you were looking for me,” her mother said.

  “I was.” Samara’s smile widened. “I have something to tell you.”

  “Oh? What is it?”

  Samara wasn’t fooled by her mother’s mildly inquisitive tone. “You already know, don’t you?”

  Asha blinked at her. “Know what?”

  Unable to contain her excitement a moment longer, Samara jumped to her feet. “I’m pregnant!”

  Asha gasped. “You are?”

  “Yes!”

  “Oh, darling! Congratulations!”

  Samara laughed as her mother stood and hugged her fiercely, then drew back and cradled her face in her palms. She was smiling from ear to ear. “This is such wonderful news. Baby number four!”

  “I know.” Samara beamed. “Remember when I had that false positive test last year?”

  “Yes. And I remember how disappointed you and Marcus were, especially Marcus. That man really wants a big family—”

  “—to add to an even bigger family,” Samara said with a laugh.

  Asha chuckled. “Indeed.”

  “Anyway,” Samara continued excitedly, “when my period was late this time, I didn’t say a word to Marcus and I didn’t bother taking a home pregnancy test. I just went straight to my doctor for a blood test. I got the results yesterday afternoon.”

  Asha grinned. “And how thrilled was Marcus?”

  “I haven’t told him yet.”

  “You h
aven’t?”

  “Uh-uh.” Samara grinned. “I was going to tell him when he got home from work last night, but then I decided to wait and surprise him for Christmas.”

  “What a wonderful Christmas gift,” her mother enthused. “It’s absolutely perfect.”

  “I think so, too. I mean, what else do you give a man who has everything and can afford anything he wants?”

  Asha laughed. “Good point, darling. But I certainly hope you don’t intend to keep giving him babies for Christmas?”

  “Uh, no.” Samara grinned crookedly. “I love having Marcus’s rugrats, but after this one I’m getting my tubes tied.”

  Asha chuckled. “I don’t think anyone would fault you for that. Children are a blessing, and I look forward to spoiling my newest grandbaby. But you and Marcus are going to have your hands fuller than ever with four kids. But you’re both wonderful parents, so you’ll be just fine.” She smiled, tenderly caressing Samara’s face. “I suspected you might be pregnant, but I didn’t want to steal your thunder by coming right out and asking you.”

  Samara grinned, practically bouncing on her high heels. “I can’t wait to tell Marcus. I’ve been trying to come up with a really creative way to give him the good news. If you have any ideas, I’m all ears.”

  Asha grinned, her eyes glimmering with excitement. “We’ll think of something, darling. Something dramatic and memorable.”

  “Dramatic and memorable.” Samara gave a happy sigh. “That’s exactly what I have in mind.”

  2

  “Slow down, baby girl,” Marcus laughingly admonished his daughter. “The pizza ain’t going nowhere.”

  Perched on his lap, Milan giggled and clapped her dimpled little hands together. She was dressed all in pink—pink sweater, pink leggings, tiny pink Timbs. Her thick black hair was pulled into two big afro puffs, one over each ear and tied with pink ribbons.