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The Billionaire’s

Christmas Baby

Victoria James

Prologue

Hannah hated Thursday nights

All she felt like doing after counseling a group of single, uneuin flannel paja of fat and calorie-laden potato chips while watchingtelevision

Luckily for her waistline she had nixed that habit after the first twomuffin top over her favorite jeans Now she only allowed herself the indulgence once a anic chips There was no point in killing herself one chip at a time just because she couldn’t save the world and every child who ended up in foster care—or so she kept telling herself Nights like this tested that theory

Hannah jiggled the key until she heard the lock click shut on the ancient church door She swung her bag over her shoulder and tread down the shallow stairs two at a time, hertonight, Louise Her pace faltered on the last step and she paused despite the chilly wind So felt off She slipped her BlackBerry out of her pocket and glanced down at the display No es She bit her lower lip while she stared at the lit screen; she had expected a phone call from Louise Maybe she’d stop by her apartment on her way home

Hannah pulled her collar up, but instead of walking toward her car, she put her keys and BlackBerry back in her pocket and slowly turned to look at the church The old stone structure stood like a colow of the old-fashioned street lah a sifter and the faint scent of cedar was laced through the crisp late November wind She knew this scene perfectly

But soht

A s bird at dawn Hannah’s eyes followed the sound Her heart jerked when she spotted a Moses-like basket with pink lining sitting on the stone porch Had she walked right by it? The iant tree protecting a nest of baby birds Hannah tried to s past the painful ball of dread in her throat

She knew that basket She had bought it

The distraught cries fro in the basket snatched her from the present and catapulted her back to a past she rarely dared to visit She stared at that basket, its i blurred by her tears She fus and kneith every ounce of her being and in every goose bump that taunted her arms whose baby that was And what it meant

Hannah took a deep breath and looked down into the basket, struggling for control She stu through her sheer nylons, but she didn’t notice and didn’t feel a thing because her eyes were on the baby Pink blanket, pink fuzzy sleeper, pink hat; the ones she had picked out for her and given to her when she was born

Emily

Her skin was pale with blotches of red froled to peel off her gloves with fingers that felt like rubber She reached out and picked her up and felt a surge of relief when E ar the infant in the folds of her coat She rubbed the baby’s back, nestling her own face into the tender spot of impossibly soft skin at the base of her neck She took deep breaths and let the baby’s angelic purity calm her

Snoirled around them as Hannah sheltered and warmed the baby Minutes trickled by slowly, until Hannah finally stopped rocking E what had brought her here, but deep down she already knew Louise was gone Eone

Hannah rose slowly, knowing she’d have to notify the police and knowing that she was going to have a hell of a battle on her hands with the child protective services office to to play this one by the books She had been there when E to do whatever she could to h the foster care system

She cradled the baby with one arm, ready to take out her BlackBerry and call her contact at the police station when she spotted so attached to the inside of the basket She crouched down and read the note It was scribbled on the back of a grocery receipt, in thick, black marker: