Her Secret Weapon. Beverly Barton
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for womanizing. As part of the London social set, he was seen frequently in public, each time with a different attractive lady on his arm. She didn’t blame the ladies. After all, Burke was a very handsome, quite charming and excessively wealthy man, not to mention a fantastic lover.
Just the thought of the night she’d spent with him suffused Callie’s body with heat and flushed her cheeks. That night almost two years ago had changed her life forever. For Burke Lonigan had given her more than a sweet memory. He had given her a child.
When she had told Enid she was pregnant, her cousin had assumed the baby belonged to Laurence, but Callie had quickly corrected that misconception. Enid had been the one who’d found out who Burke Lonigan was and how he could be contacted, but Callie had refused to go to the man and tell him he was going to become a father. She didn’t blame Burke for what had happened that night. She blamed only herself. She’d been sober and in her right mind. He hadn’t. Truth be told, she had felt certain that Burke wouldn’t even remember her. And she had been right, of course, much to her own dismay.
After endless needling by Enid, Callie had gone to Burke’s house a few months after Seamus was born. While she’d been hesitating on the pavement, trying to garner enough courage to ring the bell, a chauffeured Rolls had pulled up and Burke had emerged. He’d looked right at her, smiled, nodded and walked past her—without recognizing her. After that, she hadn’t attempted to approach him again. Not until a few months ago, when she had applied for the job as Burke’s PA. Even after working with her for over two months, the man still didn’t have a clue that they had shared a night of passion.
Although she’d put on a few pounds, had cut her waist-length hair to shoulder length and wore the curly mass in a neat bun while at work, she really hadn’t changed all that much, had she? An eye infection had temporarily ended her use of contact lenses about six months ago, but a pair of small, gold-rimmed specs couldn’t possibly make her look that different. After all, she wore them only for reading and working at the computer.
Callie had come to the conclusion that Burke simply didn’t remember that night. For whatever reason, he had blocked the memory from his mind. Perhaps because he’d been plastered after downing so much Scotch and had acted rather emotional for a man who, she had learned, was never emotional. Perhaps he associated that night with the agony he’d suffered not only from losing his father, but from having been denied the right to say a proper goodbye. Whatever the reason, he seemed to have no recollection of her whatsoever.
She had learned that Burke was a tough, shrewd, in-control businessman who managed an import-export business that was worth over five hundred million pounds. Although, as Burke’s PA, she was privy to Lonigan’s records, she suspected that all of his assets hadn’t been acquired through legitimate means. Rumors abounded about Burke being an illegal arms dealer. She tried to tell herself that the rumors weren’t true, but her intuition told her that they were.
“Here’s your tea and scones.” Juliette set the pastry, cup and saucer on the desk. “Are you all right? You look knackered.”
Despite the fact that she had lived in London for several years and her mother had been a U.K. citizen, some British words still seemed strange to Callie, whereas she had adapted others into her everyday speech. Although having grown up all over Europe as the daughter of a diplomat, from the age of twelve her education had been acquired in the States, so she often found her vocabulary to be a mixture of American and British English. Oddly enough, the same held true for Burke. He had been born in London and had lived here for the past fifteen years, but he had been brought up and educated in the States, as she had.
“I’m fine,” Callie said. “Please, don’t worry about me.”
Callie smiled pleasantly at the freckled-faced young woman, who was a whiz at her secretarial duties. A talkative, carrot-topped redhead, Juliette often chatted endlessly. Deliberately, Callie didn’t instigate further conversation this morning, as she often did. She was too out of sorts after her early morning with Seamus and was worrying about where Burke might have spent his night.
She hadn’t come to work for Burke to renew their romance, an inner voice reminded her. Ha! Referring to their former relationship as a romance was indeed a laugh. There had never been a romance. Only one sexual encounter. A night Burke couldn’t even remember! She hadn’t sought the job as Burke’s PA because she harbored any silly romantic notions about the man. Instead, she’d taken the job in order to get to know the father of her child, so that she could make a well-thought-out, rational decision about whether or not she should tell Burke about his son. Someday Seamus was bound to ask about the man who had fathered him.
Although she found herself liking Burke more and more with each passing day, she also could not ignore the rumors about the mysteries surrounding his wealth and fabulous lifestyle. If her child’s father really was an illegal arms dealer and his import-export business was a convenient—albeit highly profitable—front, she could never risk letting Burke know he was Seamus’s father.
Perhaps taking this job had been a mistake, but she had thought it the best possible way to get to know Burke. And she’d been right.
In ten weeks, she had been at his side five days a week as well as several nights and even an occasional Saturday. Although their relationship remained a professional one, she knew that he was aware of her as a woman. This past week, when she had worked a couple of hours overtime, Burke had ordered dinner delivered to his office and they had enjoyed a lively chat and a delicious meal. But when he’d helped her on with her coat, just as she was leaving, an electrifying current passed between them. Burke had almost kissed her. He would have kissed her if she hadn’t turned her head and stepped out of his reach. She had wanted that kiss—wanted it very much. But she didn’t dare allow herself to become involved with Burke. She had to know everything there was to know about him before she risked bringing him into her private life and introducing him to her son.
His son, too, an aggravating inner voice reminded her.
Callie sipped her tea and returned her attention to the McMaster’s file. Time passed quickly when she focused on business and forgot about personal matters.
With her teacup empty, scones polished off and three hours of solid work behind her, Callie leaned back in her chair and stretched. Barely stifling a yawn, she covered her mouth with her hand and closed her eyes. She found that five-minute rest breaks often refreshed her.
A knock sounded at her closed office door. Juliette opened the door just a crack and peeped at Callie. “Mr. Lonigan is in his office now, Callie. He looks knackered, as if he’s been up all night.”
So, Burke looked exhausted, did he? Worn out by another paramour, no doubt!
“He wants to see you immediately,” Juliette said. “His exact words were, ‘Tell her to come in here and be quick about it.’ He asked me to order lunch and have it delivered. Seems you’re in for a long afternoon.”
“Tell Mr. Lonigan that I’ll be in shortly.”
As soon as Juliette closed the door, Callie lifted the telephone receiver and rang Seamus’s minder. Before Burke demanded her undivided attention, she thought it best to make sure her son was all right.
Mrs. Goodhope answered quickly, her voice ever so pleasant. Callie asked about Seamus and was told that the lad was asleep.
“I might have to work late this evening, but if I do, I’ll ask Enid to look after Seamus,” Callie said.
“Enid isn’t here,” Mrs. Goodhope said. “But don’t you worry none, dearie. I can stay over a couple of hours. Our Seamus is a good little nipper. And he’s talked my ears off this morning.”
“Has he?”
“Oh, yes. Can’t understand anything he says, except wa-wa for water, bla for banana and of course, mama and dada.”
“He’s been saying dada?” Callie’s heart sank. Seamus had been saying dada for quite some time now and he was smart enough, even at fourteen months, to associate the word with all males. He often heard other children in the park calling their