The Baby Shift- Pennsylvania Read online

  The Baby Shift: Pennsylvania

  Shifter Babies Of America 31

  Becca Fanning

  Copyright © 2019 by Becca Fanning

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  1. Blade

  2. Marcy

  3. Blade

  4. Marcy

  5. Blade

  6. Marcy

  7. Blade

  8. Marcy

  9. Blade

  Also by Becca Fanning

  Blade

  Blade Berkley was sure about three things: his coffee was too cold, his step-mother’s voice was too shrill, and he was far too hungover to be functioning. He groaned silently as his step-mother barked orders over the speaker phone. He never took shit from anyone—except his father and by extension, Bella, his forty-something ex-Playmate of a mother.

  “It has to be perfect, Blade!” she screeched. “It has to be perfect, and you have to hire that Grant woman.”

  “Marcy Grant, yes, got it,” he repeated back flatly as he got out a bottle of pain reliever from his desk drawer.

  “It has to be her!” And with that, Bella hung up. He sighed as soon as the call ended. Thank God. Most of his headache was from that woman. Well, and from invitations with a few friends to go out drinking last night as a snazzy sushi restaurant opening. He took two of the pills and chased it with his thermos of black coffee, far too chilled for his taste.

  He pressed a button on his desk. His assistant, Marcus, answered: “Yes, sir?”

  “Marcus, can you run down and get me a fresh latte from the café?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  It was always a yes with Blade. He’d made sure of that in the last ten years of his business climbing in his father’s company. Who would’ve thought that Shifters could come out of the shadows to establish aggressive corporations and be praised for it? Although they weren’t out of the shadows, were they? Berkley Corporation was the Shifter clan in the twenty-first century, but instead of cozy cabins in the wilderness, they were holed up in penthouses with plenty of security. Their company logo, a roaring lion, was emblazoned in gold on the black marble walls of Blade’s office.

  Now, he had work to do. Normally, he’d dispatch party operations off to Marcus, but he was busy fetching Blade’s lifeforce from the first-floor Starbucks. He did a quick internet search for Marcy Grant. There was no picture of her on her website, but her event photos spoke for themselves. Her specialty seemed to be classy events and customized pastries that she made by hand. He dialed the number.

  All it would take is his caller-id and his dropping his name, he thought with a pompous smirk. She’d be dying that the Berkleys wanted to hire her.

  A woman answered in a tight voice, one strung with a busy nature, “Hi, this is Marcy. How can I help you?”

  “Marcy,” he drawled in his signature husky voice. He imagined her, perhaps a middle-aged woman with graying streaks and an apron around her waist. “This is Blade Berkley with Berkley Corporation. I’m interested in hiring you to host my father’s seventieth birthday party.”

  “Oh,” Marcy’s voice became short. “Sorry, Mr. Blake, was it? I’m not taking on any new party events, only for close family friends. Feel free to call Minerva Events, she’s open to new clients! Bye!” The phone clicked off. He stared at his sleek black mobile in his hand.

  Did she—? Did he hear correctly? He got her name wrong, and she rejected him?

  Marcus knocked on the glass door, a latte in hand, and Blade waved him in. His assistant placed his coffee on the desk as Blade stood, slipping on his suit jacket.

  “I’ll be taking the coffee for the road, Marcus,” he announced.

  “What about your ten o’clock meeting, sir?”

  “Move it. I’ve got a bigger problem to wrestle with today, and it has to do with a stubborn old broad throwing my father’s birthday,” he said and grabbed the coffee. “Tell them it was an emergency.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  Blade went down to the parking garage and slipped into his luxury convertible, which was waiting patiently in his reserved parking spot. Always the best, always top-notch. He placed a pair of sunglasses on and maneuvered out of the garage. Marcy’s office address was quick for his GPS to find. It would be a twenty-minute drive. He practiced his speech in his head. His checkbook sat in his briefcase. It would probably be the only bribe he needed to get her to work.

  When he pulled up to a quaint-looking storefront on the outskirts of an artsy neighborhood, he checked the address again to make sure it was correct. The hand-painted sign read: Marcy Grant, Event Planner. He walked up the small cobble-stone path to the cottage. Although there were two wide windows on the front, looking into a gallery space complete with a kitchen, he didn’t see anyone inside. The sign on the door said closed. He wasn’t going to leave without trying.

  He knocked again, harder this time.

  “Coming, coming! Is that you, Allison?” called a voice inside. It sounded like the woman he’d spoken with — Marcy. But, she didn’t look like how he imagined. He watched a gorgeous woman with long espresso black hair, large honey eyes, and gorgeous curves contained in a sleek work dress approach. Her brow was furrowed as she walked up and saw him, hovering there. He offered his friendliest smile.

  “Can I help you?” she asked, barely opening the door and looking around him.

  “Hi, my name is Blade Berkley,” he said and extended his hand. He’d chosen to wear one of his nicest watches today. She shook it without looking impressed.

  “Didn’t you just call me?” she asked.

  “Yes, I wanted to—”

  Just then a shrill cry rang out. She glanced behind her and sighed. “Just come in and sit down for a moment,” she said and retreated towards the back. When she came back to the waiting room, where he was sitting on the couch, she was cradling a baby boy who glanced up at him with curious eyes.

  “Look, Blake.”

  “It’s Blade,” he said, trying not to feel the stab at his pride.

  “Blade,” she said slowly while bouncing the baby. “I’m really busy lately. I have a young baby to take care of and some personal family emergencies have… occurred. I don’t have time to take your birthday party or retirement party, whatever it was.”

  He laughed. “Well, the thing is… I can’t ask anyone but you.” He watched her gorgeous face twisted into a sassy look with an arched eyebrow. “My step-mother is quite insistent on hiring you. The Berkley Corporation would pay you more than you usually ask and tip handsomely, I assure you.” As if to evidence this, he pulled out his checkbook with a half-smile.

  She sighed. “That’s very nice, but I have a baby. My babysitter takes him only on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I refuse to leave him alone on Mondays, Wednesday, and Fridays.”

  He gritted his teeth as his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID. Bella. With a grimace, he silenced it and shoved it back into his pocket.

  “Double your usual costs,” he said.

  She shook her head. “You’re not listening, Mr. Berkley.”

  “Please, Blade. Double your costs, a bonus at the end, and—” He glanced at the baby. “I’ll arrange childcare for when you need it.”

  Her brows rose. “Blade, that’s generous, but I can’t trust my baby with someone. I want him to be with me, that’s why I work from home on those days.”

  His phone, now silenced but on vibrate, buzzed in his pock
et. He could already hear Bella ranting on and on. His eyes darted to the baby.

  “I will personally help you take care of your baby while you work.”

  Her mouth dropped open.

  “Triple your pay, I’m your new babysitter, and you get a bonus,” he said. “What do you say?”

  Marcy

  “He just like… offered you three times your normal price and volunteered as a personal baby sitter?”

  Marcy shifted her phone as baby Oliver sat in his high chair. They were at home now and her best friend, Jessica, was on the phone. Marcy was relaying the morning news to her.

  “Yeah, he was super insistent. If he wasn’t so cute, it would’ve been creepier…” she admitted. “Plus, I can’t argue with that offer. I get a bonus, too.”

  “Damn! How nice. What was his name again?” Jessica asked. Marcy went to dice her onions for dinner. She placed her friend on speaker phone as she moved throughout the kitchen.

  “Blade Barker? Berkley? I’m so bad with names, you know that,” she said.

  “Berkley?!” her friend screeched. It sounded as if she’d just spat out water. “Marcy, do you have any idea who that man is?”

  “No,” Marcy admitted as she hovered with her knife above her chopping board. “Should I?”

  “His family, the Berkley Corporation, is like one of the richest families in Philadelphia! They own practically an eighth of the city,” Jessica explained in an excited tone. “This is huge, Marcy!”

  “Wow, no pressure,” Marcy muttered with a groan. She watched Oliver playing with his plastic set of keys, dropping them to the ground with a cry. She picked them up and ran them under the sink with a bit of soap. When she handed them back, he accepted the gift gratefully by gnawing on the plastic with an excited flourish.

  “I’m so insanely excited for you,” her friend gushed. “When are you meeting him next? He’s single, isn’t he?”

  “Not interested and tonight actually. He’s taking me to a steakhouse to discuss the party. I think it’s part of the bribe,” Marcy confided. “I need to still find a sitter. I might ask my mom—”

  “I’ll do it! But, you have to tell me everything!”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Am I sure?” Jessica repeated with a laugh. “Yes! But, you have to wear that sexy black dress that you only wear on our girls’ nights.”

  “I haven’t tried it on since I had Oliver,” Marcy said doubtfully. “But I’ll try it.”

  “Well, you can’t get out of wearing it, because I’ll see you tonight. I’ll be over after work around six?” And with that, Jessica said her goodbyes without any time for Marcy to refuse.

  Marcy played with the ends of her hair as she glanced in the mirror hanging in the hallway connecting to the kitchen. It’d been a while since she had made herself up to go out for a night. She bit her lip, considering how fancy she should dress tonight. Yes, Blade was unbelievably handsome, successful, sexy… She groaned and threw her hands up in the air, causing Oliver to stare at her with big blinking eyes.

  He muttered some gibberish and she cracked a smile. Even on her hardest days, and even when Oliver was doing his fair share of the crying, her baby never failed to make her smile. She wished she could say the same about his father… How different would it have been if Dave stayed, and they’d worked things out?

  Hard to work things out after he left. Sometimes, he tried calling her. She started blocking his numbers. Jessica and Marcy’s mother were worried that he was going to threaten legal action soon. If he couldn’t get back to Marcy, what would he resort to? Marcy doubted it. She snorted. Dave wasn’t interested in an actual family, only his pride. She’d heard through the gossip mill that he left for a younger woman that he’d met online. She imagined that the only reason he was calling because she either dumped him or things had gone sour between those two.

  “Not my monkeys, not my circus,” she sang to herself and glanced at the mirror again. “You’re a strong and beautiful woman.” She said the last part to her own reflection, feeling ridiculous but a little happier.

  Determined not to let Jessica down, Marcy went about her work after putting Oliver down for a nap. After double-checking e-mails and calendars, she put the baby monitor on and hopped in the shower. Oliver was snoring softly as she climbed out of the shower and began her beauty rituals. It’d been a while since she’d shaved her legs and tweezed her eyebrows. She applied lotion all over her body, relishing the luxurious feeling as she massaged her muscles. Her self-care rituals had definitely been slacking ever since Oliver arrived.

  She’d just thrown some hair product in her hair and wrapped a fluffy robe around her when Oliver began crying. She pulled her hair up and went to go soothe him. As she cradled him, she glanced at the clock and swore. The doorbell rang. When Jessica flashed a smile at her as the door open, her friend quickly gasped.

  “You have to get ready!” she scolded. “Gimme that baby.”

  Marcy laughed and handed over Oliver, who always happily went into Jessica’s arms. Jessica and Oliver kept her company in the bathroom as Marcy applied her makeup at her vanity.

  “Cat eyeliner definitely,” Jessica advised as she cradled Oliver. “Do you still have that deep mauve lipstick?”

  “Definitely,” Marcy said and waved it in her hand. They chatted as she finished her makeup. Jessica wandered over to Marcy’s open closet and spotted the black dress. She brought it in and hung it on the back of the bathroom door.

  “Oliver and I will eagerly await your arrival in the bedroom,” Jessica said dramatically as if she was addressing a member of royalty. “But hurry. He picks you up in twenty, right?”

  “Yep,” Marcy said and shut the door with a crack.

  “Should I put on runway music?” Jessica teased from outside.

  “No,” Marcy said with a laugh as she wiggled into her dress. It was a bit tighter than she remembered but still emphasized her curves perfectly. She slipped her feet into a pair of sensible black pumps. When she opened the door, Jessica gasped.

  “You look drop-dead gorgeous. That Shifter is going to—” She covered Oliver’s ears. “He’s going to want to take you right there in the restaurant.”

  “It’s a business dinner,” Marcy reminded her with a snort. She grabbed a sharp-looking fitted blazer from her closet and Jessica pouted. “I’ll take it off inside the restaurant.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  A honk sounded outside. Blade was here. Her heart flipped in her chest. Jessica grinned from ear to ear.

  Blade

  He’d chosen a swanky steakhouse in the downtown area. His eyebrows rose when she removed her blazer as they sat down. He pulled her chair out for her. He might’ve been a Shifter, but he was still a gentleman.

  “You clean up nicely,” he teased. She smirked.

  “You’re too kind.”

  They ordered drinks and appetizers, taking a moment to decide on their entrees.

  “What kind of things does your father enjoy?” Marcy asked with a polite smile. She wanted to dive into business straight away. He leaned against his hand and stared at her. She might’ve well asked what his father’s greatest fears were.

  “He likes a round of golf, money, and to be left alone in his study,” he offered with a shrug. Marcy bit her lip and traced the glass stem of her cocktail. God, she was always doing things that were unintentionally erotic. He sucked in a sharp breath and sipped from his whiskey.

  “What did you guys do together when you were growing up? Are there any funny family inside jokes?” she asked. “Or maybe something related to your Shifter identity?”

  He hesitated. “He liked yelling at me to get off my ass when I was a kid, does that count? Most of the time, I was with nannies or tutors or being allowed to Shift and run through our gardens.”

  “Okay,” she said slowly. “Maybe I’ll order us another round of drinks.” She called the waiter over and in a hushed tone said, “If you could just m
ake the next round stronger, thanks.”

  He snorted to himself. If she thought she was going to break open the Berkley family, she had another thing coming.

  “Look,” she said with a smile. “I’m trying to help you, Blade. I want your dad to have a great birthday, the best birthday he’s ever had. And your stepmother… Bella was it?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  She laughed. “Bella sounds like she has a lot of ideas, but this isn’t a party for Bella. It’s a party for your father, and I realize that it’s not easy to be helping me with something like that, from the sound of your history with your dad.”

  “Are you a therapist too?” he asked as he finished off his drink. She gave a dark laugh.

  “You’d be surprised what roles an event planner has to play in her job,” she said cryptically. Her smile, with one perfect dimple on the left side, was absolutely adorable. He shoved the thought out of his head. This wasn’t one of his quick conquests. This was his caterer for the most important party in Berkley history. He cleared his throat.

  “There’s actually something that might be interesting. My father is a man with a great love for scotch. I’m an American whiskey man myself, so bourbon’s my game, but my father loves scotch. He has a favorite distillery in Scotland that he likes to order his special reserve from.”

  “That’s a start,” she said in a brighter tone as she jotted it down in her small notebook. The waiter came by with their appetizers and a fresh round of drinks. “We can also talk about values, you know. Does your father believe in anything besides scotch? Something close to his heart like love, honor, a religion?”

  He reflected seriously. “His religion is money.”

  “Delightful,” she said and tapped her fingernails against the surface of the table, staring at her cocktail. “And you?”