Her Secret Weapon. BEVERLY BARTON
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said smugly.
Burke poured himself a snifter of brandy, then sat in the leather wing chair in front of the roaring fire in the living room. He had lived the good life for many years now, enjoying the trappings of wealth, privilege and power afforded him by his disguise as a legitimate businessman.
Recently Burke had begun to wonder if this was all there would ever be to his life. He was forty-two, no longer a young buck eager for danger and excitement. Occasionally the thought of retiring crossed his mind, but then he’d ask himself a critical question. Retire and do what? He had become a SPEAR agent shortly after college graduation and had never once regretted that decision. So why was he suddenly so disillusioned by it all?
Because he was getting old? Because he didn’t want to wake up at fifty and still be alone? There were at least a dozen suitable women who would gladly become Mrs. Lonigan. But not a one of those lovely ladies was the woman with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life.
What about Callie Severin? an inner voice asked.
“Yes, what about Callie Severin?” he repeated.
The chemistry between them was undeniable. Every time they were together, sparks ignited. And the fact that she was being coy with him, making him wait for her favors, made him want her all the more. But was her reluctance genuine or just a game she played to whet his appetite? If he made love to her, would that satisfy him?
Burke swirled the brandy in the glass, then lifted it to his lips and sipped the aged liquor. He closed his eyes and relaxed. Unbidden memories floated through his mind. A faceless woman. The musty scent of two bodies mating mingled with the heady scent of flowers. A lush, loving body lying beneath him. A sweet, soft voice whispering his name.
He became aroused. For nearly two years she had haunted him. He had tried—unsuccessfully—to forget her and their time together. He’d been a complete mess that night. Plastered. Self-pitying. Pathetic. And desperately in need of comfort.
She had comforted him. Loved him selflessly. Given herself to him with abandon. He could remember the feel of her, the scent of her and even the taste of her. But his mind refused to remember her face. Or her name, if he’d ever known her name.
He had never been as weak and vulnerable, as completely at the mercy of another human being as he had with her. He hated the thought that he’d opened himself up and put himself at risk with a stranger, a woman who could have easily ripped his tattered emotions to shreds. He had allowed her to see his weakness, to view the hurt and angry little boy inside him.
Somewhere out there was a woman who knew him inside and out. Every inch of his body. Every beat of his heart. Down to the very depths of his soul.
She had touched something within him and he within her. Two strangers giving solace. A man and a woman who had sought only physical union and had somehow connected on a deeper level.
Did he love this woman whose face he couldn’t remember? Whose memory was a beautiful, faded blur? He didn’t know. Wasn’t sure. He doubted he could even begin to put into words the way he felt about her. But what did it matter? She had vanished from his life as quickly as she had entered it. And since that night, loneliness akin to none he’d ever known had been an integral part of his life.
His loneliness had nothing to do with being alone. He could easily surround himself with people and fill his empty bed with his pick of eager women. And he had, on occasion. But the loneliness remained. He wanted that gut-wrenching desolation to come to an end. And he thought Callie Severin might well be the woman to accomplish that deed. He knew one thing for certain—she was the only other woman who had ever tempted him beyond reason.
Chapter 3
Callie stood at Burke’s side smiling warmly as they greeted his guests. Acting as his hostess for this affair reminded her of the occasions when she had served as her father’s hostess at embassies around the world. Everyone had thought it adorable for Arthur Severin to allow his teenage daughter to play at being a grown-up. However, on none of those occasions had she worn a designer gown or diamonds worth a small fortune. Burke had insisted on the dress, a pale pink silk that clung to her curves yet somehow managed to achieve a demure appearance. She wore diamond and pearl studs in her ears and a diamond bracelet. A large diamond-and-pearl heart-shaped pendant rested just above the crevice between her breasts.
When a pause came in welcoming guests, Burke leaned down and whispered, “You look ravishing tonight. I like your hair worn down about your shoulders. I wish you’d wear it that way at the office.” He chuckled. “On second thought, you’d better not.”
“Thank you. I think.”
Before their conversation could progress further, another couple arrived. While she smiled and made idle chit-chat, Callie’s mind began to wander. During the past week, since Burke had suggested they become lovers and she had declined, he hadn’t actively pursued her. And yet she had been aware of his subtle looks, his innuendos and the way he often allowed their hands to accidently touch. And at least once a day he somehow managed to maneuver her into a position where their bodies brushed against each other.
It had become quite obvious that Burke Lonigan wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Callie glanced at him and her stomach tightened. Look at him, an inner voice said. No woman in her right mind would reject that man.
He was handsome, glamorous, ultra masculine and extremely wealthy. Wearing a stylish Armani tuxedo and an air of supreme confidence, he epitomized the sophisticated millionaire. Unless they knew his background, no one would ever think he’d been born the illegitimate son of an Irish housemaid. He wore the mantle of a gentleman easily, with only a hint of the wild Irishman lurking in his persona.
Every time she looked at Burke, she was reminded of how very much Seamus resembled him. No doubt, when her son was a grown man, he would be his father’s double. The only feature he had inherited from her was his mouth—his smile was identical to hers.
Burke leaned close and whispered, “Woolgathering, my darling?”
“What?” She realized that she hadn’t responded to a question Sir Thomas Warfield had asked. “I’m so sorry, Sir Thomas, I’m afraid I was thinking about my son.”
“Didn’t know you had a child, Ms. Severin.” The portly, middle-aged banker raised an eyebrow when he spoke.
Although having children out of wedlock was generally more accepted these days, there were still those who frowned on the practice. Sir Thomas and most of Burke’s guests would be appalled that his PA was an unwed mother. She glanced at Burke, silently asking him how she should respond.
“The little nipper is almost two, isn’t he?” Burke slipped his arm around her waist. “Callie’s quite a devoted mother. I greatly admire women who are good mothers and put their children’s needs first, don’t you, Sir Thomas?”
Pasting a weak smile on his pale face, Sir Thomas nodded. “Indeed. Indeed.”
Within five minutes all the guests had arrived and Burke took Callie’s hand in his and led her into the living room. Before he released her, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.
“The circumstances of your son’s birth are no one’s business but yours,” Burke told her. “You don’t owe anyone an explanation, especially not a pompous jerk like Thomas Warfield.”
“If he’s such a pompous jerk, why did you invite him to your party?”
“This isn’t a gathering of friends. You should know that. These people are business acquaintances. Nothing more.”
“Yes, of course.” In the two and a half months she had been working for Burke, she had come to realize that the man had hundreds of friendly acquaintances, but few friends. Actually, she wasn’t sure he had any friends. And she found that odd. Burke’s personality most certainly leaned more toward his being an extrovert than an introvert, yet he seemed adept at keeping others at arm’s length.
“We should mix and