Demanding His Secret Son. Louise Fuller
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was far too well-bred to do anything as crass and inappropriate as flirt with a woman half his age to whom he had just given a job at his new prestigious private members’ club.
‘I’m looking forward to it too, Mr Claiborne—no, please—’ she stopped him as he reached into the pocket of his jacket ‘—let me get these.’ She gestured towards the coffee. ‘You’re a client now.’
Watching him walk away to talk to someone in the hotel lounge, she took a deep breath and sat down, resisting the urge to pump the air with her fist in time to the victory chant inside her head. She’d done it! Finally she’d netted a client who saw magic as more than just an amusing diversion at a party.
Across the lounge, Edward Claiborne was shaking hands, smiling smoothly and, leaning back in her armchair, she let elation wash over her. This was what she and Elliot had been chasing, but this new contract was worth more to them than a paycheque. Claiborne was fifth generation New York money and a recommendation from him would give their business the kind of publicity they couldn’t buy.
Pulling out her phone, she punched in Elliot’s number. He answered immediately, almost as though he’d been waiting for her to call—which, of course, he had.
‘That was quick. How did it go?’
He sounded as he always did, speaking with that casual west-coast drawl that people sometimes mistook for slowness or lack of comprehension. But to Teddie, who had known him since she was thirteen, there was a tension to his voice—understandably. A three-nights-a-week job of bringing magic and illusion to the brand-new Castine Club would not only boost their income, it would mean they could employ someone to do the day-to-day admin. And that would mean they wouldn’t end up with a repeat of today’s last-minute panic when Elliot had realised he’d double-booked himself.
For a moment, she considered making him sweat, but she was too happy and relieved. ‘He’s in!’
Hearing Elliot’s triumphant ‘Surf’s up, baby!’ she laughed.
It was one of the things she loved most about her business partner and best friend—the way he reverted to his Californian roots when he was excited. Her heart swelled. That and the fact that, no matter how unjustified it was, he always had complete faith in her.
‘I’m not saying I thought it was guaranteed, but honestly—I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who loves magic so much.’
‘So what clinched it? No, let me guess. The three-card Monte. I’m right, aren’t I?’
Teddie could practically picture the familiar wicked grin on Elliot’s face.
‘Yes! But that doesn’t mean I forgive you for throwing me in at the deep end.’
He laughed. ‘So how about I take you and George to Pete’s Grill at the weekend? To make amends and celebrate?’
‘You’re on.’ She frowned. ‘How come you’re talking to me, anyway? I thought the whole reason I had to do this was because you had a meeting.’
‘I do—I’m waiting to go in. Actually, I’m going to have to go—okay, babe? But I’ll drop round later.’ He whooped. ‘I love this job!’
He hung up, and Teddie grinned. She loved her job too, and Elliot was right: they should celebrate. And George loved Pete’s.
Thinking about her son, Teddie felt her heart tighten. She did love her job, but her love for George was fierce and absolute. From the moment she’d held him in her arms after his birth, her heart had been enslaved by his huge dark eyes.
He was perfect, and he was hers. And maybe, if this job went well, in a couple of years they’d be celebrating here.
Leaning back against the smooth leather upholstery of a chair that probably cost more than her car, Teddie glanced around the hotel lounge. Well, maybe not here. The Kildare Hotel was new, and completely beyond her pay grade, oozing a mixture of old-school comfort and avant-garde design that she might have found intimidating if she hadn’t been feeling so euphoric.
It was clearly the place to be seen, judging by the mix of hip, moneyed guests, although—she stared critically at the two huge Warhol prints that dwarfed one wall—wasn’t it a bit corny to have all these copies of famous paintings hanging everywhere. Why not use originals by local artists?
Glancing over to where Claiborne was still chatting, she felt her pulse skitter forward. Really, she should be over there too, networking. It didn’t have to be too obvious. All she had to do was smile as she passed by and her new boss would definitely call her over to introduce her to his companion.
She couldn’t see the man’s face, but even at a distance his glamour and self-assurance were tangible. Silhouetted against the industrial-sized window, with sunlight fanning around him like a sunburst, he looked almost mythical. The effect was mesmerising, irresistible—and, catching sight of the furtive glances of the other guests, she realised that it wasn’t only she who thought so.
She wondered idly if he was aware of the effect he was having or if he was worthy of all the attention. Maybe she should just go and see for herself, she thought, emboldened by her business triumph.
And then, as she began picking up the cards that were still strewn all over the table, she noticed that Claiborne was gesturing in her direction. Automatically her lips started to curve upwards as the man standing beside him turned towards her.
The welcoming smile froze on her face.
She swallowed thickly. Her heart felt hard and heavy—in fact, her whole body seemed to be slowly turning to stone. Her euphoria of just moments earlier felt like a muddied memory.
No—no way! This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t be here. Not here, not now.
But he was. Worse, having shaken hands with Claiborne, he was excusing himself and walking—no, swaggering towards her, his familiar dark gaze locked with hers. And, despite the alarm shrieking inside her head, she couldn’t drag her eyes away from his cold, staggeringly handsome face and lean, muscular body.
For just a split second she watched him make his way across the room, and then her heart began pounding like a jackhammer and she knew that she had to move, to run, to flee. It might not be dignified, but frankly she didn’t care. Her ex-husband, Aristotle Leonidas, was the last person on earth she wanted to see, much less talk to. There was too much history between them—not just a failed marriage, but a three-year-old son he knew nothing about.
Snatching at the rest of the cards, she tried to force them into the box. Only, panic made her clumsier than usual and they slipped out of her hands, spilling onto the floor in every direction.
‘Allow me.’
If it had been a shock seeing him across the room, seeing him up close was like being struck by lightning. It would have been easier if he’d developed a paunch, but he hadn’t changed at all. If anything, he was more devastating than ever, and it was clear that he had risen to such a point of power and wealth that he was immune to such earthly concerns as appearances.
But, to Teddie, his beauty was still hypnotic—the knife-sharp bone structure and obsidian-dark eyes still too perfect to be human.
Feeling her pulse accelerate, Teddie steeled herself to meet his gaze.
It had been four years since he’d broken her heart and turned his back on the gift of her love, but she had never forgotten him nor forgiven him for deleting her—and by default George—from his life like some unsolicited junk email. But evidently she had underestimated the impact of his husky, seductive voice—or why else was her pulse shying sideways like a startled pony?
It was just shock, she reassured herself. After four years she was obviously not expecting to see him.
Pushing aside the memory of that moment when he’d dismissed her like some underperforming junior member of his staff, she frowned. ‘I’m fine. Just leave it.’
He ignored her, crouching