My Forbidden Lover's Secret Baby

The house was dark, save for one light in the kitchen, but Chelsea Grand was still hopeful her older brother, Mike, would be home and awake. It was just past midnight, an early night for her, though he was often in bed that time of night if he didn't have a date. Since it was a weeknight, she expected him to be watching TV, maybe in bed already if he had an early day the next morning. Since he was a construction worker, that was often the case. He'd have to be at work at the crack of dawn to get the majority of his work done before the heat of the day. Still, there was a chance he'd be up.

Chelsea prayed that was the case as she dropped her car keys into her purse. She really needed to talk to someone.

It was a hot August night. If she'd been wearing a lot of clothing, it would probably be plastered to her skin. Even though she was only wearing a shimmery silver and white crop top that barely came to her navel and a short black skirt that hit several inches above her knees, the heat washed over her the second she stepped outside of the AC her Dodge Charger had been bathing her in as she'd driven over from the club downtown.

Chelsea didn't bother to knock on Mike's door. If it was locked, she'd go away, but if it wasn't, she'd invite herself inside, the way she always did during the summer when she was home from college. She was about to start her senior year at TSU and had come back to her hometown for one last summer before she started her life as an adult. Her degree in business would keep her busy year-round, just as soon as she landed the perfect job, so she'd wanted to take advantage of this last opportunity to see her friends and visit with her older brother whom she'd always looked up to. She could definitely use his shoulder to cry on right now after that disastrous date.

The door gave as she turned the knob, and Chelsea stumbled inside, her high heels mixing with the few drinks she'd had which were finally catching up with her. She hadn't thought she was drunk at all when she'd left the club, but now, as she caught herself from falling on her brother's wooden floor, she thought perhaps she'd been mistaken. Maybe she should plan on sleeping over in Mike's guest room. She definitely didn't want to take any chances if she was more intoxicated than she'd thought she was.

Righting herself, Chelsea glanced around the living room, shutting the door behind her. Mike was definitely not sitting in front of the TV. It was off, no lights on in the living room or the adjoining dining area. But she did see that soft glow she'd noticed before coming from the kitchen. Maybe he was in there getting a late night snack.

Chelsea started for the kitchen door, the sound of footsteps coming in her direction assuring her that Mike was up. She was about to call out to him, to let him know how badly she needed his big brother advice when a form filled the doorway. It wasn't Mike-but the man standing in front of her was familiar. "Holy shit," Chelsea muttered, stopping in her tracks. The man standing across from her wasn't her big brother. It was his best friend, Heath Black, wearing only a tight pair of fitted jeans, and an expression that said he was about to show her what it was like to be taken down by a marine.

Heath Black was standing in the kitchen of his best friend's house, getting a drink of water from the sink, when he heard footsteps on the front porch. At first, he thought it might just be Mike coming back from his booty call, although it seemed a little early for that. His ex-girlfriend, Dana, had just called about an hour ago, begging him to come over. Initially, Mike had declined, saying he had company. But Heath would never want to be the reason for keeping his good friend from getting some, so he'd insisted that Mike go.

Heath took a swig of water, thinking he should call out to his friend to let him know he was in the kitchen, but then he realized the shoes didn't sound right. If it was Mike returned home, he wouldn't sound like he was wearing high heels, would he? And if it was the chick he'd gone off to meet, then where the hell was Mike?

Deciding he needed to go investigate, Heath set his glass on the counter and moved to the dining room. There, he saw a young woman coming into the house. It was clear by the way she swayed slightly as she closed the door behind her that she'd been drinking, although the high heeled shoes probably didn't help any. She was gorgeous-in a tiny skirt and slinky, shimmery top. Her sandy blonde hair was piled on top of her head. Even though it was obvious the heat had melted her makeup a little, and she was sweaty from just a few moments outside getting out of her vehicle, she was still one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen.

But she didn't belong there.

She looked up at him, her face morphing from some sort of a pout to a startled expression. Was this one of Mike's other ex-girlfriends? He stood in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room, his eyebrows raised, waiting for her to say something. The only words she produced were, "Holy shit," and since he wasn't sure that that was supposed to mean, Heath asked, "Can I help you, miss?"

"Miss?" she repeated, staring at him, her blue eyes bulging. "Since when are you so formal?"

"Excuse me?" He didn't recognize her, but it was clear she recognized him, or at least thought she did. Maybe she was drunker than he thought and had accidentally gone into the wrong house. "Are you looking for Mike?"

"Yeah. Is he here?" she asked, taking a few steps closer to him, fiddling with one of her earrings. "I have had the shittiest night."

"No, he's not here right now."

"Damn," she muttered. "I didn't realize you were going to be here. Are you back from deployment for a while, Heath?"

She knew his name. Who was this woman? "Uh... reassigned. Back at the fort now for a while. I'm going to be training some new recruits. I'm sorry-wh... who are you?" He felt embarrassed for asking, since she clearly knew who he was. But for the life of him, he couldn't figure out who the beautiful, sexy woman staring back at him with those large, sparkling eyes could be.

"You don't recognize me?" she said with a laugh. "Oh, Heath! Has it been that long?"

"I... I guess..." he stammered, crossing his arms over his bare chest, wishing he'd thought to put a shirt on. He was on his way to the guest room to go to bed when he decided he needed a drink, and his shirt had been practically stuck to him from the heat when he'd arrived. "I'm sorry," he said again. "Who are you?"

She was still laughing, covering her mouth this time. "It's me-Chelsea! Mike's sister!"

"What?" Heath's mouth dropped open. The last time he'd seen her, she was a tiny, twig of a girl, with stringy hair and braces. Now... well, that girl was definitely gone. "Chelsea?" He shook his head. How had she transformed into such a gorgeous woman? Had it really been that long?

"Yep, it's me," she said, but she wasn't laughing anymore. "I might look different, but you don't," she said, and there was something about the way the words formed on those luscious red lips that made Heath's mind go to a place it shouldn't, not when he was looking at his best friend's little sister anyway.

"Well, little sis-you're all grown up," he said, his eyes dropping of their own accord as they traced the length of her body.

"Yes, yes, I am," she replied, her eye lids heavy as they focused on his abs. Heath took a deep breath, not sure what to say, but in the back of his mind, he knew he was in big, big trouble.

The tension between them was undeniable as Chelsea took in the man before her. It didn't seem like it had been so long since she'd seen him that he wouldn't even recognize her. Clearly, he hadn't though. It might've been comical, if he didn't look so unbelievably hot standing there in the doorway with his jeans riding low beneath his taut stomach muscles. She ran the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip, wondering if she really was drunk to be allowing her mind to wander to such a forbidden place-or maybe she wasn't drunk enough.

"Can I... get you a drink?" Heath asked, as if reading her mind.

Chelsea let a wild giggle escape her lips. "I think I can get my own beer at my brother's house," she said, grinning at him. She moved toward the kitchen, wishing her heels weren't so high or she could just take them off, but she was already moving so she did her best to stay steady. He was still standing there in the doorway, staring at her. Chelsea couldn't help but place a hand on his shoulder as she neared him, gently pushing her way through. The motion was enough to get him to step aside, but the contact sent an electric sizzle all the way up her arm. His skin was warm, his muscles hard. Her hand didn't want to leave the casual contact behind, but she could hardly pause in the doorway of the kitchen to stare at him either. She let her hand drop and moved to the refrigerator, thankful that Mike always had a well-stocked fridge, at least when it came to alcoholic beverages.

She pulled out a Bud Light. "Do you want a drink?" she asked, bending down in such a way that he would have a full view of just how grown up she'd gotten, should he care to look. The weight of his eyes on her let Chelsea know he did care.

"Uh, sure...." Heath sounded as if he were signing his soul over to the devil. Maybe he was in a way. If the two of them had enough to drink, who knew what might happen?

Chelsea knew he preferred Budweiser to Bud Light, so she pulled out a bottle of each and headed back toward him. He was standing a few feet into the kitchen now, still looking killer in only those jeans. She handed him his drink, popped the top on hers with her bare hand, and took a swig. "Where's Mike?" she asked, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand.

Heath swallowed back more than a sip of his beer before he replied, "Got a call from some chick."

"Hoes before bros?" Chelsea snickered, walking past him. She needed to get out of these shoes.

"Something like that." Heath followed her. When she pulled a chair out at the dining room table, the light from the kitchen the only soft illumination, he followed, grabbing the chair at the end of the table and scooting it back a few feet before he sat down, his beer still in his hand.

Chelsea pretended not to notice him watching her as she leaned down and unhooked her shoes, sliding her aching feet out of them, but she knew he was looking at her curves, the soft mounds of flesh that jutted out of the top of her shirt. She glanced up at him as her second shoe came off, and Heath looked away, his face slightly red. She'd never known him to be shy, so the feeling that she'd gotten such a reaction out of him was satisfying.

"How long will you be staying with Mike?" she asked, swirling her beer bottle around on the table for a second before she took another drink.

"Just through the end of the weekend. Are you planning on sleeping over?"

The question was innocent enough. He obviously wanted to know if she would want the guest bedroom. But the other implications were there, so Chelsea raised an eyebrow at him.

"I mean-Mike didn't mention...."

"He didn't know I was coming." The events that had led her there came back to her, and Chelsea couldn't help but sigh in frustration. She spun her bottle again. "My date was-awful."

"Oh. I'm sorry." Heath sounded concerned-and a bit relieved that his awkwardly worded question had been evaded.

"Yeah. I just came over to talk to Mike. To get my head right." She shrugged. "It's too bad he's not here, but he didn't know I was coming."

"Are you staying at your parents' place this summer?" Heath asked, possibly trying to change the subject from her terrible date.

Chelsea nodded. "Mostly. Sometimes I come over here, though. My mom had a tendency to forget I'm not a little girl anymore."

"I don't know how she could be confused." Heath's eyes dropped down the length of her, and then that tinge of red was back as he tried to stop himself.

Chelsea held back a smile. He really was interested in her. Imagine that-after all of these years. He'd always treated her like she was just Mike's annoying little sister. Now, his eyes wouldn't stay off of her breasts or her muscular thighs.

She took another drink, sizing up the situation. If she made a move, Heath would crumble in her hands. He might try to pretend that he didn't want her, but he wouldn't hold out for long. She wasn't drunk enough not to know what she was doing, and he wasn't drunk at all. But if Mike found out-he'd kill both of them. Chelsea took a deep breath, her eyes locked on Heath's handsome face, the bristles on his chin providing a shadow that gave him a mysterious, almost dangerous, allure. He was dangerous in a way. Which made her want him even more.

Chelsea sank her teeth into her bottom lip and watched the soldier in front of her melt in his seat. She could definitely have him if she wanted him. She just had to decide whether or not it was worth potentially angering her brother. But then, Mike didn't need to know-did he?