The Billionaire Shifter's Secret Baby: (Paranormal Weretiger Secret Baby Romance) (Howls Romance #4) (Billionaire Shifters Club) Read online

  The Billionaire Shifter’s Secret Baby

  a Howls Romance

  Diana Seere

  Contents

  Copyright

  The Billionaire Shifter’s Secret Baby (A Howls Romance)(Billionaire Shifter’s Club #4)

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  Also by Diana Seere

  Howls Romance

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2017 by Diana Seere

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

  Cover design by Yocla Designs

  Cover photo from depositphotos.com

  Join my New Releases and Sales newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/beUZnr

  The Billionaire Shifter’s Secret Baby (A Howls Romance)(Billionaire Shifter’s Club #4)

  by Diana Seere

  A masquerade ball in Malibu led to a single night of passion under the stars… and set the wheels of fate in motion.

  Three years ago, waitress Kara Jablonski gave in to her wilder side with a fellow weretiger, the rock star billionaire Lars Jensen, a sun-kissed blond drummer with a viking's build. Six weeks later, the pregnancy test came back positive.

  Knowing Lars' powerful, overbearing mother would be able to take the baby away, Kara did what she had to do.

  She hid him.

  Now chance has brought Lars back into her life, his touch making her pulse beat like the old legends. So strong, so loud, so bold.

  So right.

  But can she trust him to want more than another night under the stars? Can she trust him to claim his son as his heir... and Kara as his mate?

  Fate responds with a roar...

  The Billionaire Shifter's Secret Baby is a novella that stars Lars Jensen, a member of a shifter family with viking blood featured in earlier books in the series, and is part of the Howls Romance series as well: http://howlsromance.com

  Chapter 1

  Under normal circumstances, Kara Jablonski would’ve been happy to pause and admire the towering blond god as he strode across the elegant lobby below the Platinum Club. His expensive black suit was obviously custom-made, cut perfectly to his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and powerful thighs. Above the impressive physique, thick hair swept away from his forehead in loose waves, gleaming like gold in the sunlight pouring in through the Boston skyscraper’s high windows. His eyes were a piercing cobalt blue. And even more stunning than the rest of him, one perfect dimple indented his chin as if kissed by a naughty, slutty angel.

  Right… there. She could almost feel it under her lips.

  Under normal circumstances, she would’ve taken the time to drink in every inch of him, knowing he’d never notice a girl like her even if she were openly drooling like a starving stray cat.

  Meow.

  But this was not a normal circumstance.

  Heart thudding against her ribs, Kara lifted her bag in front of her face and scurried behind a row of potted ficus trees. After a moment, she risked peeking through the leaves at the god.

  No, not a god.

  A weretiger.

  The breath seeped out of her, leaving her limp. How dare he look so good, so beautiful, so… unchanged?

  Two years, almost three. But he hadn’t aged a day. Of course, shifters had exceptionally long lives, even shifters from the poor, forgotten branches of the breed—like her.

  But she was certain she had aged a lifetime in the past two years, almost three. Everything had changed since that night.

  Everything.

  What was he doing here? If she’d ever thought he would show up in Boston, let alone this building, she never would’ve taken the waitressing job at the Platinum Club. So far as she knew, he wasn’t even an American. He was a globe-trotting playboy, he and his brothers loaded with as much old money as the Stantons, the powerful family of shifters who owned this building.

  Well, she assumed they did. When Eva called her about working here, she’d implied as much. Eva, also a shifter of modest means, although not as modest as Kara’s, managed the Platinum Club. Eva was always looking for good waitstaff, she’d said, especially lately since there had been unusually high turnover.

  He should be out in the world, enjoying his wealth, prestige, and gorgeousness—in both man and tiger form. He shouldn’t be parading around Boston when she was just figuring how to get through her life without him, not that she’d ever had her life with him, except for that one night. She and Nana had just moved into a two-bedroom apartment, and this job had an elite clientele with a salary to match. A salary they needed desperately.

  Where’d he go? She peered through the branches again, an uncontrollable sigh drifting out of her.

  He was out of sight and out of her life.

  Again.

  Another sigh.

  Seeing him wasn’t only painful, but dangerous. However, as tempted as she was to turn and run out of the building and never look back—perhaps even shifting to speed her escape—she straightened her spine and held her ground.

  She couldn’t leave. She needed this job. They all did. The days of only thinking of herself had passed.

  After waiting another minute, she stepped out from behind the potted trees and walked to the elevator. Although the waitresses had a dressing room they could use before their shifts, Kara preferred to work as she’d arrived, in her favorite black dress and ballet flats. She liked how it made her invisible—or maybe she liked an excuse for why most people didn’t notice her, and even men she’d danced with, men she’d kissed, men she’d— Well, even they seemed capable of completely forgetting her. Easier to blame it on her boring clothes than on her face, body, or personality.

  He’d walked within five feet of her and hadn’t even blinked. Neither one of his golden-lashed eyelids over his sapphire-blue irises had flickered a millimeter. She’d even gasped a little when he’d stepped in front of her. All morning, in fact, she’d been as jumpy as a cat at a pool party, sweating too much, breathing too fast—she’d thought it was nerves about starting the new job.

  But it was nerves about him.

  The father of her child.

  And he didn’t even know her name.

  Lars Jensen ate up the ground beneath his feet, the shiny marble of the lobby gleaming. He strode with purpose, here for a meeting with Gavin Stanton and other shifters, convened for a very specific reason: the preservation of the shifter world.

  His mind whirling with thoughts of finding the man who seemed hell-bent on destroying their species and way of life, he didn’t notice the headache that began in his chest, migrating up his neck to behind one eye, the pulsing a strangely pressured feeling. Not quite pain.

  Certainly not pleasure.

  It came with a sudden flush, one that curled his fists and tensed all his muscles at once. Thick thighs expanded with muscle as blood roared through him, his cock turned
on like a light switch, his heart hammering in his chest.

  He’d felt this way once before.

  And only once.

  She’s here, he thought. Eyes narrowing, his gaze darted around the enormous, high-ceilinged lobby, neck turning slowly, searching, scanning, pattern matching like a—

  Like a tiger on the hunt for prey.

  His nostrils widened, and he smelled her, the intoxicating scent going straight to the root of him, making him drunk and dizzy, vision blurring as he began to breathe heavily.

  Control it, he told himself. Pausing before the elevator door, he saw a blur of greenery out of the corner of his eye.

  Ding!

  Called by technology and disoriented, he climbed into the mouth of the metal beast with a group of humans, all headed upstairs. As the doors closed, the abrupt withdrawal of her scent made it easy to restrain himself, composure returning as quickly as he’d lost it.

  “Lars. Good to see you,” said a familiar voice, the silky strands of elegant femininity filling the air as he turned to catch the eye of Eva Nagy, the manager of the Platinum Club. She was so much more in the shifter world, but given the abundance of humans surrounding them, he couldn’t very well comment on that.

  “And you as well, Eva,” he said. “Always a joy. How is business?”

  “Our members are pleased. That is all that matters,” she said smoothly, her voice like warm caramel. Some of the human men in the elevator released a mating scent.

  So did some of the women.

  “You’re here for work?” she asked, making chitchat, knowing damn well why he was here.

  “Mmm,” he said, noncommittal on purpose. A young woman, barely out of adolescence, made eyes at him, the flirting unmistakable. Under any other circumstance, he would take the bait, though by the looks of her—leggy blonde, overpainted with makeup, tongue rubbing against her lip suggestively—she was more like jailbait.

  That was not the only reason why he gave her a polite nod and turned away.

  “I know you,” said the blonde, triggering a running line of memory in Lars. Had he slept with her the last time he’d been in Boston?

  “Hello,” he said, stalling for time.

  “You’re Lars Jensen! From The Fates. The drummer.” She looked at his hands. “You have some of the finest moves in the music world.”

  All eyes turned on him. The men were scornful and dismissive.

  The women released more mating scents.

  “Thank you,” he said, trying to ease out of the conversation.

  Her gaze met his, wide and open, clearly interested in what his hands could do for her. “Are you here to play?” Wink.

  “I am here on business,” he said coldly, anger gratefully replacing whatever feeling he’d encountered in the lobby. He reached into his pocket and pretended to answer a text. The blonde got the message, her face twisting into the nastiness of the rejected. He knew her type.

  He despised her type.

  The pounding of his heart slowed as each floor dinged, taking them farther away from the lobby. The mystery woman’s scent was gone within three deep breaths.

  By the time the doors to the Platinum Club opened, he found it easy to convince himself he’d been mistaken. The mysterious woman he’d shared a night of passion with nearly three years ago, who had disappeared without a trace, was not here.

  Pulse returning to normal, he walked slowly—achingly slowly—to the room where Gavin and his brother, Derry, were waiting for him.

  Foolish hope had reignited in him, whimsy he could ill afford right now.

  He had smelled a ghost. The stress of the shifter world’s problems had created mixed signals in his mind. She was not here.

  His cock, on the other hand, refused to accept the truth.

  Chapter 2

  Within her first hour working tables at the club, Kara already knew she was crazy about Carl, the bartender. Her fellow waitresses were much friendlier than she’d expected, too, for such an exclusive place. They’d taught her the unusual rules of the famously secretive club—no tabs, no tips, just top service and infinite discretion. Although nobody pointed them out, Kara identified quite a few shifters dotted amongst the other members, but they were all strictly in human form, their other natures a secret here, even in a club owned by other shifters.

  Most of the members of the Plat were rich and famous humans from politics, sports, and entertainment. There was a senator, that tech billionaire with green hair, and a breakout singer on YouTube who currently was enjoying her first viral pop hit—at seventy-four years old. There was also an actor from HBO whom she’d seen at parties in LA—before she’d found out she was pregnant and left town in a big hurry.

  Except for That Night, Kara had never been a guest, of course, only a servant with a tray and a drink, a bottle and an appetizer, smokes and pills. The hard stuff was one reason she’d hated gigs at private homes of the rich and famous. Although she didn’t mind serving cocktails, she didn’t drink.

  Except for That Night, of course.

  Eva stepped out from behind the bar, holding her cell phone. “I need your help, Kara. There’s a private party. Some relatives of mine”—here she paused and gave Kara a meaningful glance—“have run out of their preferred sustenance. I’ve been called to provide it. But I’ll need you to go down to the wine cellar because I can’t leave the floor right now.”

  “Sure thing,” Kara said, thinking it was odd this modern skyscraper had a cellar. It must be a nickname and was actually a modern, climate-controlled room of some kind. “Where is it?”

  “You’ll need to take the service elevator down. Hit the bottom button. Old thing looks like it’ll break any day now, but it’s surprisingly resilient.” Eva smiled, arching a brow. “Like so many of us.” She handed Kara a slip of paper with some French names written on it in an old-fashioned, slanted hand and strode away in her tight navy suit. She seemed to glide rather than walk, like gravity didn’t affect her.

  Then again, most other people weren’t shifters and wouldn’t know Eva’s cool grace matched her feline form. If she and Kara were related, neither knew which ancestor linked them, although they all had intertwining ties in the Old World if you went back far enough. It was Eva’s friendship with Kara’s late mother that had inspired her to reach out to her with the job. Although how this elegant professional woman could’ve been friends with Kara’s late mother, who had never held an honest job in her life, was a mystery.

  Kara set down her tray on the bar, but just as she began walking to the elevator, she felt something burn down her spine like a river of fire. Inhaling sharply, she staggered forward a step and froze, suddenly aware with every atom of her body that somebody was watching her.

  Somebody behind her.

  The burning feeling on her back spread down each arm to each fingertip, up to her ears and throat, down to each nipple, then diving between her legs and flooding her with molten need.

  Her knees began to tremble. She couldn’t look. She couldn’t risk it.

  You, said a voice. I’ve found you.

  Her heart pounded in her ears, but its beat wasn’t the only one. She could hear a second pounding in sync with hers, a deafening throb that was louder and deeper than the music from the dance floor next door to the lounge.

  You! cried the voice.

  It couldn’t be. It couldn’t. He’d been gentle and strong, he’d given her pleasure she’d never known before or since, they’d laughed and wept and climaxed together, but he would never, ever be able to recognize her. She’d been so careful.

  Well, not so careful about the baby thing. But that oversight had turned out to be the greatest joy of her life.

  Telling herself it was only nerves and exhaustion—her toddler son had kept her up all night and had skipped his nap that afternoon—Kara snapped herself out of her foolish daze and strode to the hallway with the service elevator.

  The trail of heat followed her like a tightrope. She had to fight for each step s
he took away from him.

  No, not him. It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t.

  She stumbled forward into the ancient service elevator and punched the lowest button, leaning her forehead against the cold wall as she tried to catch her breath. Her pulse continued to throb under her skin, making her flushed and restless, aching and hungry. Her nerves tingled with the strain of fighting off an unwanted shift. Her entire life, she’d been afraid of inheriting her mother’s bad habit of shifting uncontrollably. It was the kind of thing other shifters looked down on, seeing it as low class.

  Kara shook off the sensation, took a deep breath, and looked up.

  He stood in the doorway, his blue eyes blazing.

  “You,” he growled. “It is you.”

  The kiss happened before Lars could stop himself, decency be damned. Decency never made him feel like this. Decency didn’t run its tongue along the soft edge of her teeth, her lips pressing against his, her tongue warm, wet, inviting him to explore, to reunite them.

  Decency didn’t slide its hands up his shoulders, into the thick blond hair at the nape of his neck, moaning in his arms and writhing as he cupped her breast, urgency making him search deeper, the sweet taste of her mouth making him need to taste her everywhere else.

  And decency most certainly did not slam her against the elevator wall, sink his hand into her shining chocolate waves, pull her leg up his hip, his cock straining against his trousers to escape as the inadequacy of rubbing against her now-soaked panties had to do.

  But decency did force him to stop when the elevator dinged and she froze, all traces of passion draining out of her as she pulled her skirt down and ran her fingers over her face, as if checking to make sure she was still here.

  “Wait!” he called out as she practically ran from him, her head turning left and right. She darted into a room, opening a thick, heavy door and disappearing into a dimly lit stone cave-like space before he could catch her.