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    The Tycoon's Baby
    The Tycoon's Baby
    The Tycoon's Baby
    Ebook208 pages3 hours

    The Tycoon's Baby

    By Leigh Michaels

    5/5

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    Read preview

    About this ebook

    Take one single dad plus an adorable baby girl…

    A year after the death of his wife, Webb Copeland is managing just fine as a bachelor and as a dad – if only his grandmother would stop insisting that his baby daughter needs a mom. Madeline is too young to remember her mother, so how can she miss what she's never had?

     

    … add one matchmaking grandma…

    Still, if his grandmother doesn't stop throwing young, single women in Webb's path, he's going to have to move into his office to escape – where he'll never be able to spend quality time with his baby.

    Clearly, he needs a diversion. If he announces his engagement, the hordes of women will have to leave him alone. And if his new fiancée is the worst woman he could possibly choose, Grandma will hate her on sight – and be so horrified she'd prefer Webb stay single after all.

     

    … throw in an unsuitable bride…

    Enter Janey Griffin, who works the swing shift manufacturing car parts for Webb's company. She's steel-toed boots, not high heels. She's stained jeans and flannel shirts, not strapless gowns. She's ponytails and ball caps, not hair gel and dangly earrings. She's oil and grease and hot metal, not lipstick and exotic perfume.

     

    … and watch the trouble begin!

    Only there's a lot more to Janey than meets the eye. She's ambitious, she's smart, and she can drive a very tough bargain. Before Webb realizes he's in over his head, he's sinking fast… and beginning to think Janey's not just a diversion after all.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPBL Limited
    Release dateFeb 7, 2022
    ISBN9798201805128
    The Tycoon's Baby
    Author

    Leigh Michaels

    Leigh Michaels (https://leighmichaels.com) is the author of more than 100 books, including contemporary romance novels, historical romance novels, and non-fiction books including local history and books about writing. She is the author of Writing the Romance Novel, which has been called the definitive guide to writing romances. Six of her books have been finalists in the Romance Writers of America RITA contest for best traditional romance of the year, and she has won two Reviewers' Choice awards from Romantic Times (RT Book Review) magazine. More than 35 million copies of her books have been published in 25 languages and 120 countries around the world. She teaches romance writing online at Gotham Writers Workshop.

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      Book preview

      The Tycoon's Baby - Leigh Michaels

      The Tycoon’s Baby

      By Leigh Michaels

      Copyright 1999, 2022

      All rights reserved

      Take one single dad plus an adorable baby girl...

      A year after the death of his wife, Webb Copeland is managing just fine as a bachelor and as a dad – if only his grandmother would stop insisting that his baby daughter needs a mom. Madeline is too young to remember her mother, so how can she miss what she’s never had?

      ... add one matchmaking grandma...

      Still, if his grandmother doesn’t stop throwing young, single women in Webb’s path, he’s going to have to move into his office to escape – where he’ll never be able to spend quality time with his baby.

      Clearly, he needs a diversion. If he announces his engagement, the hordes of women will have to leave him alone. And if his new fiancée is the worst woman he could possibly choose, Grandma will hate her on sight – and be so horrified she’d prefer Webb stay single after all.

      ... throw in an unsuitable bride...

      Enter Janey Griffin, who works the swing shift manufacturing car parts for Webb’s company. She’s steel-toed boots, not high heels. She’s stained jeans and flannel shirts, not high fashion. She’s ponytails and ball caps, not hair gel and dangly earrings. She’s oil and grease and hot metal, not lipstick and exotic perfume.

      ... and watch the trouble begin!

      Only there’s a lot more to Janey than meets the eye. She’s ambitious, she’s smart, and she can drive a very tough bargain. Before Webb realizes he’s in over his head, he’s sinking fast... and beginning to think Janey’s not just a diversion after all.

      Table of Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      About the Author

      Other Books by Leigh Michaels

      CHAPTER ONE

      The room rang with the sound of a toddler’s giggles. Webb raised himself up on one elbow and leaned over the pajama-clad child who was sprawled on the Oriental rug in front of the fireplace. He growled gently as he threatened once more to gobble her tummy, and she shrieked with delight and yanked at his hair.

      Nearby, a white-uniformed woman shifted to the edge of her chair and said, Mr. Copeland, it’s Madeline’s bedtime.

      Who cares? Webb wanted to say. I don’t, and Madeline certainly doesn’t. I’ve only seen my little girl for twenty minutes all day, Mrs. Wilson. Can’t her bedtime be put off for a while?

      The nurse’s expression was stern. I’d say you’ve already managed that. You’ve got her so agitated it’ll take an hour just to get her settled.

      Webb sighed and made a vow to himself that tomorrow he would get out of the office on time, no matter what. All right. He bent over the toddler again. Maddy, playtime’s over. Give me a kiss before you go up to bed.

      Madeline’s enormous brown eyes—her mother’s eyes—pleaded silently, but Webb gathered her close and stood up. He rubbed his cheek against her soft dark hair and kissed her rosy cheek, then handed her over to the nurse and watched the pair of them cross the marble-tiled foyer and climb the winding stairs.

      The tiny woman perched on a low rocking chair at one side of the fireplace didn’t look up from the mass of rose-colored yarn in her lap. The flicker of the flames cast long shadows which emphasized the deep lines etched in her face. I don’t know why you put up with that woman, Webb.

      Because she’s the best baby nurse in Cook County.

      Camilla Copeland sniffed. Says who?

      She was highly recommended.

      She’s rigid.

      Gran, you can’t have it both ways. I’ve heard you say yourself that children need schedules.

      I said they need security and stability. That does not mean I’m in favor of regimentation.

      Webb buttoned the collar of his pinstriped shirt and settled his tie back into place. Gran, please don’t start this again. But he might as well have tried to stop a battleship.

      Madeline’s only fifteen months old. Don’t you think it’s a bit early for her to be living a boarding school lifestyle, all bells and whistles and rules? Camilla Copeland looked straight at her grandson and added firmly, The child needs a mother.

      Webb dropped into a chair. He might as well make himself as comfortable as possible. They’d had this discussion a dozen times at least, and he knew better than to think he could cut it short now, because, once launched, Camilla was inexorable.

      Her voice softened. I know it affected you horribly, when Sibyl... went—

      You have no idea, Gran.

      But it’s been more than a year since she died, and it’s time for you to get on with your life.

      "I am getting on with my life. What I don’t plan to do is get married again. Ever."

      Oh, my dear. Camilla’s voice was soft. I know you’ve been stunned—almost in a daze—ever since the accident. But you mustn’t assume that because you haven’t felt any interest in women in this past year that you never will. Those... urges... aren’t gone, Webb.

      Despite his annoyance with her, Webb had to bite back a laugh. Dear old Gran, with her Victorian way of putting things! She’d even turned just a little pink, bless her heart. Or was that simply the firelight reflecting off the half-finished sweater in her lap?

      Camilla turned her knitting and started another row. Someday, Webb, I promise you’ll be eager to have a woman in your life again.

      Webb wondered what she’d say if he pointed out that he’d only ruled out marriage, not the possibility of another woman in his life.

      And it’ll be easier for Madeline to accept a stepmother now than it will be later. Camilla nodded firmly, as if she’d nailed her point and was assured there could be no argument.

      Webb blinked in surprise. He’d thought he could practically recite this entire conversation from beginning to end with all its variations, but that last line had been a completely new twist. He felt like a skier who’d wandered off the marked trail and found himself speeding down the side of an entirely different mountain.

      Now wait a minute, he said. Because you’re so certain that someday I’ll decide to get married again, you think I should leap into it right now—whether I’m ready or not—because Maddy’s the right age to bond with a stepmother?

      "I didn’t say you should leap, Camilla said. I said you shouldn’t write off the possibility."

      Webb shook his head. No, you weren’t nearly that flexible, Gran. Let’s assume I take your advice and get married, against my better judgment, purely so Maddy can have a stepmother.

      I never indicated you should consider only what’s best for Madeline. I expect you’d have a few criteria of your own.

      That’s very generous of you, Webb said with mock humility. I’m grateful to have a say in this.

      Don’t be impudent, Webb. Camilla pushed her knitting needles deep into the mass of pink yarn. There’s the bell, and we won’t be able to finish this discussion over dinner.

      Because the butler would hear. Thank heaven for small blessings.

      But I want your promise to think it over.

      Webb offered his arm. I assure you, Gran, he said gravely, that I’ll give the idea all the consideration it deserves.

      Camilla’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t leap on the irony in his voice. And we’ll talk about this again.

      That is precisely what I’m afraid of.

      AS THE CLOCK NEARED three, the mood of the students in the lecture hall shifted from attentive to restless. Papers shuffled, notebooks closed, books scraped as they were loaded into backpacks. Finally, in the middle of a sentence, the professor seemed to notice the time. Test next Monday, he reminded, after the Thanksgiving break. The rush to the door began.

      Janey Griffin stayed in her seat at the back corner of the room, finishing up her notes and waiting for the traffic jam to clear. In a couple of minutes, she’d be able to walk straight through the building without having to dodge the crowds. Besides, she needed to finish writing down the professor’s last line of logic before she left the room, because she’d never be able to reconstruct it tonight after work.

      Outside the classroom, a petite blond was waiting for her, leaning against the wall with her books folded in her arms. She fell into step beside Janey. Do you have time for a cup of coffee?

      Janey shook her head. I’m due at work in an hour. You can walk over to the apartment with me if you like and talk while I change clothes. What is it, Ellen? Boyfriend problems again?

      Dennis is being a jerk. Ellen sounded almost absent-minded. But that’s nothing new. I can’t believe you’ve still got this job.

      Why? I’m a good worker. In another month, I’ll be finished with my probation, and I’ll even get a raise.

      And another noisy, greasy, disgusting machine to run.

      Somebody has to make drive shafts, honey, or your little red car would be a paperweight instead of transportation. Janey dodged traffic to cross the street which separated the campus from a residential area.

      Ellen broke into a run to catch up. "But why does it have to be you? If you soak your hands for a year, you’ll never get all the grease out of your skin. I can’t believe you haven’t quit by now."

      It’s good money, and the hours are compatible with the classes I need to take. Besides, what would I do instead? Wait tables? I’d rather smell of machine oil than french-fry grease. To say nothing of dealing with obnoxious customers.

      Who wouldn’t be any easier to deal with than the jerks on the manufacturing line.

      Ellen seemed to have read her mind. Are the men still harassing you?

      Now and then, Janey admitted. She pulled out her keys as she ducked down the stairs beside a run-down old house to her apartment in the basement.

      What does that mean? Is it a constant hassle, or do they let you take breaks from it once in a while? Ellen shook her head. And you still haven’t reported them?

      What good would it do? I’d just get myself labelled a troublemaker, which is not a good idea before I’m even through my trial employment period. The things they do are never so clearly abusive that it’s obvious, you know, or the supervisors would have seen it already.

      Go over their heads.

      Oh, right. I’ll just march into Webb Copeland’s office and announce he has a bunch of sexist redneck jerks working on the manufacturing line. And I’m sure he’ll promote me to corporate vice president and put me in charge of sensitivity training.

      She pushed the door open. The apartment looked worse than usual, with her roommate’s clothes and belongings strewn across the living room furniture.

      Ellen looked around. Has Kasey been hosting police raids? It looks like someone’s been executing a search warrant in here.

      Janey smiled. Actually, it’s an improvement over the upholstery. Kasey has better taste in clothes than the landlord does in furniture.

      Ellen’s face was tight. You have a horrible job, you study the most incredible hours, you live in a rat hole...

      Ellen, please.

      I just hate it that you have to work so hard for this! Tears gleamed in Ellen’s eyes, and her fists clenched.

      Oh, it’s good for my soul to work hard. Besides, it’s what I get for not starting college on time. Since I had a job those few years in between, and I actually made a decent living, I can’t get any real financial help now. She unearthed a box of tissues buried under a pile of Kasey’s sweaters and handed it to Ellen.

      Absently, Ellen pulled a tissue from the box. Maybe my father could loan you some money.

      Don’t you dare ask him. Even if he had the spare cash, it wouldn’t be fair to put him on the spot. Anyway, I won’t ask anybody to loan me money unless I can come up with something to offer as security—and that’s about as likely as being struck by lightning. Look, Ellen, I know you only bring it up because you care. But being reminded of my circumstances doesn’t change them, it just encourages me to feel sorry for myself.

      Ellen sniffed and blew her nose. I have never known you to feel sorry for yourself.

      I’m glad to find out it doesn’t show. Janey went into her tiny bedroom to change into the faded jeans and shabby flannel shirt she wore to work.

      She wiped off her makeup, since in the factory’s heat it would slide off her face anyway, and pulled her hair into a tight braid which would keep it out of reach of the machines she’d be running—and tried to put what Ellen had said out of her mind.

      It wasn’t as if anyone was holding a gun to her head, forcing her to live this way. She’d chosen to sacrifice her living standard and to work at a job she didn’t like because her long-term goals were more important.

      In another two years, she’d be far enough along in her education to qualify for internships in her field, and she’d be able to build experience and develop contacts that would help in her eventual search for a full-time job. But most internships didn’t pay, and even if she was lucky enough to land one of the few that did, she couldn’t make enough money to support herself and finish her last year of school too.

      In the meantime, she needed to put away all the money she could—and that meant for at least the next year she’d be working the swing shift at Copeland Products.

      Two more years of running noisy, messy machines, carving and bending solid metal into vehicle parts. Tw0 more years of fellow employees who were unused to working side by side with women on the production line, men who vented their discomfort in crude remarks. Two more years of coming home after midnight exhausted and filthy, to be greeted by a stack of homework and an alarm clock already ticking ominously toward a too-early morning.

      Two more years. It sounded like eternity.

      Janey took a deep breath and forced herself to smile. She’d take it one day at a time, and she’d pull through... because she had to.

      THE COPELAND PRODUCTS factory was brilliantly lit and incredibly noisy, for even during the change of shifts the machines kept running. As Janey crossed the factory floor to check in with her supervisor, her safety goggles were still dangling on their strap around her neck, but she made sure her electronic earmuffs were already in place. The earmuffs were less than comfortable, but the up-to-date engineering muted the roar of the machinery while allowing the human voice to come through loud and strong.

      Janey wasn’t so sure that was really a technological advance. Given her choice, she’d have opted for cotton balls instead, so she wouldn’t have to listen to her fellow workers. Certain ones of them, at any rate.

      She arrived at her assigned post with a minute to spare, and the man who’d operated the machine on the day shift stepped aside. It’s been running a little wild, he said. I’ve been adjusting it all day, but it keeps throwing the shavings instead of dropping them into the bin. I’m starting to think we’ve got a bad batch of steel and it’s not the machine at all.

      Great, Janey muttered, and watched intently as he showed her the adjustments he’d made. As soon as he left, she pulled up a tall stool so she could perch high enough to keep an eye on every moving part. If she was going to have to babysit the machine, she might as well be comfortable.

      The man at the next machine called, Wish I could sit down on the job.

      She looked over in surprise. The man who usually ran that piece of equipment—the one who so frequently entertained himself by tossing suggestive remarks at Janey—was nowhere to be seen, and this worker was obviously settling in for the shift.

      The wave of relief which surged over Janey surprised her

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