Fortune's Secret Heir Page 13

  “You’re not worried he’ll go around telling people you’re engaged to me?”

  “I’ll make sure he won’t.” He sounded unconcerned and polished off the bacon slice before wiping his fingers on a napkin. “So Randy’s off the list. Who’s next? Someone in Chicago, you said?”

  She scrambled a little to keep up with the sudden shift. “Uh, yes. Chicago. Nancy Belgard.”

  “She was with the advertising firm my father once used.”

  “Yes. I have the notes in my room if you want to go over them.”

  He shook his head, glancing at his watch. “Later.”

  She immediately rose and moved the used plates to the sideboard. The food she and Randy had eaten hadn’t made a dent in the generous buffet. “It’ll only take me a few minutes to get ready to leave for the airport.”

  “A commendable trait, considering my experience with my sisters. But we don’t have to race back to Austin all that fast. The sky’s clear and there’s still plenty of the city that you haven’t yet seen. Not to mention Cambridge. And your water-taxi ride, of course.”

  He hadn’t said a word the night before about more sightseeing. “That’s very generous of you, but—”

  “I’m not generous, Ella. I’m selfish. I want what I want when I want it.”

  She watched him over her coffee cup as she took a long sip. It was really good coffee.

  When she was finished, she set the empty cup next to the used plates. “Saying something doesn’t make it so, Ben,” she said as she headed for the door. “So far, the only selfish thing I’ve seen you do was eat the other half of my truffle yesterday. But if you selfishly want to show me more of this fabulous city, I suppose I can suck it up and go along.” Smiling impudently, she pulled open the door, only to gasp when he followed her and reached above her head to push it shut again.

  “I am selfish,” he said flatly and planted his mouth on hers.

  Chapter Ten

  Ella went rigid with shock.

  For about a millisecond.

  Then sensation exploded in her veins like a Texas wildfire and she rushed headlong into it. Her hands gripped the lapels of his jacket as she sprang up on her toes, and he slid an arm around her back, arching her even higher against him while his kiss devoured her.

  She’d never before believed a kiss could cause fireworks. The one guy she’d ever slept with—a fellow accounting student—had seemed perfectly satisfactory up until that very moment.

  Because a kiss could cause fireworks.

  Ben’s kiss.

  The colors weren’t just bursting to life inside her head. They were igniting in every cell. And then she felt his hot palm sliding beneath her shirt, climbing up her spine, and she was shocked at the moan that rose in her throat and the need that sank through her.

  Then she felt his other hand wrapping in her ponytail and he pulled his mouth from hers, breathing harshly. His eyes weren’t inscrutable now. They were lit with an unholy blue fire. And they were singeing every inch of her face as he looked at her.

  This wasn’t flirting.

  This was want. Pure and hot and inescapable.

  And recognizing it made her shudder.

  “I don’t sleep with people who work for me.” His voice was rough, abrading her senses.

  “Are you firing me?”

  “I don’t fire people who don’t sleep with me, either.”

  “I didn’t think you did.” She stared at his lips while her own tingled. She was excruciatingly aware of his hand against her bare flesh and the fact that his bed was about twenty steps away.

  “I told you that you were safer with Phillips’s flirting.”

  Her breasts were crushed against the breadth of his hard chest. She wasn’t sure if it was her own heart beating so hard or if it was his. “Do you want to sleep with me, Ben?” She already could feel the answer to that pressing hard and insistently against her abdomen.

  He let out a short, strangled laugh. “Yes.” He pressed his mouth to her forehead. Then exhaled. “No. Because I don’t want to ruin things.”

  She was finding it difficult to keep her eyes open. She let go of one crushed lapel and ran her fingers over his tight jaw. “Ruin what things?” Her fingertips crept slowly into his dark hair. The strands were thick and silky.

  His hand left her spine and he grabbed her hand, stilling her progress. He pressed his open mouth to her palm and she swallowed hard.

  Then he was stepping away from her, releasing her hand. Her ponytail.

  Only a few inches, but the distance might as well have been a mile.

  “Ruin everything.” His voice had turned flat. “I’m sorry. I crossed a line I promised myself I wouldn’t cross.”

  “I’m not sorry.” She was incapable of preventing the admission.

  “You would have been.” He turned away from her and cupped his hand around the back of his neck.

  His knuckles were white.

  An ache formed deep inside her that had nothing to do with unquenched desire. “Ben.”

  He didn’t look at her, but his hand dropped.

  “It’s okay,” she said softly. “If you’re going to beat yourself up over something, please don’t let it be for this. I’m a big girl. We kissed. It’s not a crime, so forget about it. I will.” She fumbled for the doorknob behind her and pulled open the door. “I’m going to change. We can meet in the lobby and sightsee. Or we can go home. Your call. Either way, I’m still going to be okay. I’m not going to quit helping you.”

  “Because you want your college education paid for.”

  “Yes.” Her palm was sweaty on the knob. “And because I want to help you. Because it’s important to you.”

  His shoulders rose and fell in an enormous sigh. “Don’t forget the scarf and hat,” he said after a moment. “It’ll be even colder out on the water.”

  She chewed the inside of her cheek, hesitating. He still hadn’t turned to look at her. “I’ll meet you in the lobby.” It was clearly a safer setting for them.

  He didn’t answer. Just nodded and pulled out his cell phone when it pinged softly. “Bonita,” he said into it. “Yeah, I know it’s Saturday. That’s why you get the ridiculous salary you get—”

  Ella shakily stepped out of the suite, pulling the door closed behind her.

  When she thought she could walk to the elevator without having her legs collapse from underneath her, she went down to her own room.

  She exchanged her skirt and high-heeled pumps again for her jeans and tennis shoes. She’d already showered earlier that morning and she swept up her meager supply of cosmetics, and the fancy little tubes and bottles provided by the hotel into her zippered case and dropped it in her satchel, along with the rest of her clothes. She dumped her taxation book on top. At the rate she was going, she wasn’t going to have much of it read at all before her class started. With the satchel ready to go, she left it by the door. She tucked her flat wallet and room key in her front jeans pocket, grabbed her coat and the hat and scarf, and went downstairs to the lobby.

  The place was more crowded with pleasure travelers than it had been the day before. There were still a number of comfortable chairs available, but she was too keyed up to sit and wait for Ben, so she wandered around while keeping an eye out on the elevators for sight of him.

  Her watch told her a full thirty minutes had passed before he finally appeared. She saw immediately that he hadn’t changed out of his business suit. The afternoon before had been the only time she’d seen him in more casual clothes, but she couldn’t help wonder if his choice now had anything to do with that kiss.

  Was he trying to emphasize his boss-ly position?

  She caught sight of her reflection in a window and made a face at herself. More likely, Ben was just being Ben. Sexual attr
action clearly wasn’t going to push him off his usual course.

  Determined to prove that the same could be said of herself, she crossed the lobby to intercept him. “Aren’t you going to need your overcoat?” she asked when she reached him. He didn’t have the coat with him at all.

  He held up his cell phone. “Something’s come up that I need to take care of.”

  Disappointment coursed through her but she did her best to hide it. “Okay. My bag is packed. All I need to do is grab it.”

  He shook his head and touched the small of her back, directing her inexorably toward the hotel entrance. “Johnny’s going to finish giving you a tour. I’ll meet you as soon as I’m able.”

  She swallowed the protest that she’d rather wait for him and let herself be ushered outside where Johnny was once again waiting with the Town Car. With her evidently passed into the capable hands of the driver, Ben went back inside the hotel. Before the door closed behind him, he was once again talking on his cell phone.

  “Boy works as hard as his papa,” Johnny said, pulling open the rear door for her.

  “Could I sit in front with you?”

  The gray-haired man smiled. “Aye, sure.” He pushed the rear door closed and opened the passenger door instead. “Don’t often have such a pretty girl sitting beside me.”

  “How many times have you kissed the Blarney Stone, Johnny?”

  He chuckled and waited until she was stowed inside before closing the door and rounding the vehicle to get behind the wheel. “So, miss. What’s your pleasure today?”

  Ben, she thought longingly.

  And fruitlessly.

  She pinned a smile on her face and focused on the genial driver. “Anywhere you choose. You’re the expert.”

  “Right you are, then.” He pulled away from the hotel, avoiding a crew that was in the process of removing holiday wreaths from the light poles. “You know, for a while in the 1600s, celebrating Christmas was outlawed in Boston...”

  * * *

  It was late afternoon before Johnny deposited Ella at the wharf, where a water taxi was waiting.

  “Just walk on down those steps,” the driver said, gesturing. “Mr. Robinson should be there already.”

  “Thanks, Johnny.” Ella impulsively reached up to kiss the driver’s cheek. She hadn’t been able to spend the day sightseeing with Ben, but she still had enjoyed herself. She couldn’t have done otherwise, considering Johnny’s engaging knowledge about “his” city.

  The man smiled and patted her shoulder before nudging her toward the brick sidewalk leading to the steps. “You be sure and call on me when you come back to Boston.”

  Ella smiled back and waved as she walked away, though she figured it was pretty unlikely she’d make it back to the beautiful city. Not anytime soon, anyway. And she would never be able to afford to hire a private driver like Johnny. “Drive carefully,” she called back before she began down the steps.

  There was a small line of people formed at the base and Ben’s head topped them all.

  Butterflies flitted around inside her tummy at the sight of him, and when he turned his head and noticed her, they broke into a downright frenzy. He stepped out of line and she saw that he was carrying her satchel again the same way he had when they’d left Texas.

  “Sorry I didn’t have a chance to meet up with you earlier,” he said.

  The stiff wind tugging at her ponytail below her knit cap was also flirting with his dark hair, tumbling it over his forehead, seeming to subtract years and responsibility. “That’s okay. You’ve probably seen it all dozens of times over already.”

  “Not with you, I haven’t.”

  The words made her feel warm inside, even though common sense warned her against putting too much faith in them.

  A long water taxi sat alongside the dock and the people at the head of the line were beginning to board. “You really didn’t have to do this,” she said, gesturing at the boat. “Johnny could have driven us back to the airport just as easily.”

  “And have you miss out on the full experience?” He shook his head and fell into line behind a young woman with two small children.

  “You know it’s a shuttle bus that will pick us up on the other side of the harbor and take us to the airport,” she warned. “Johnny told me all about it.” Along with a bushel of other trivia.

  Ben’s lips twitched. “I know.”

  “And you’re okay with that? Riding a shuttle.”

  “I’m not that spoiled,” he drawled. He reached down to help lift one of the kids ahead of them over the edge of the boat and the tot’s mom sent him a grateful smile. Then he turned and held Ella’s hand until she’d crossed, as well, and stepped down onto the boat that was rocking steeply in the windswept water.

  She retrieved her mitten-clad hand as soon as she could and balled it up inside her pocket. The water taxi had an enclosed cabin where most of the people were heading, but Ella hung back. Ben seemed to have no objection, either.

  They were the last to board, and the boat pilot chattered as he walked through the area, briskly collecting tickets and issuing instructions.

  Ella sat down on one of the padded seats lining the perimeter of the boat and stared back at the wharf as the boat moved away from it.

  Ben dumped her satchel and his garment bag on the bench between them and sat down, too, stretching out his long legs in front of him.

  She’d assured him that she would forget about the kiss. But she’d lied. Forgetting it would be as easy as forgetting her own name. So unless she was somehow stricken with a freak case of amnesia, she was afraid she was stuck with the memory.

  The little girl he’d helped into the boat started trotting back and forth from beneath the covered canopy to where they were sitting and Ella smiled at her.

  “Think you’ll want kids someday?”

  Ben’s abrupt question made her start. She looked at him, but he was watching the child.

  “I haven’t thought much about it,” she said truthfully. “I suppose someday. After my degree. After—” She shrugged.

  “After you establish yourself?”

  She nodded.

  His lips twisted a little.

  “What about you,” she asked casually. “Do you want to be a father? A husband?” She was proud of her humorous smile. “A real one, I mean.”

  “I thought I was a father for nearly a year.”

  Her falsely humorous smile faded. She studied his solemn profile as he studied the little girl’s antics. She easily recalled the snapshot of a blond child she’d inadvertently found in Ben’s desk. Of the child’s room at his home. The cheerful trains and the beautiful crib.

  She’d thought it felt unused.

  But now deserted seemed more apt.

  “What happened?”

  Ben’s shoulders moved restlessly. “His real father staked his claim and took him away.”

  She waited for more, but nothing seemed forthcoming. She touched his sleeve. “I’m sorry.”

  “He’s better off.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Henry.” He finally looked from the little girl to Ella. “His mother, Stephanie, told me he was mine. We’d been...involved. I believed her. Until Henry’s real father had a DNA test done that proved otherwise.”

  Questions about Stephanie clamored inside her. She resolutely ignored them. “Did he live with you?”

  He nodded. “Ten months. His mother, too.”

  Ella swallowed. Had Stephanie used the lovely room next door to the nursery? Or had she and Ben really lived together? As a couple? Had he loved her? Did he still? “When is the last time you saw Henry?”

  “Six months ago.”

  Puzzle pieces shifted around and began falling into place.

  “They
moved to California,” he went on, his voice flat. “Henry’s not even three years old. He won’t remember me.”

  But Ben would remember Henry.

  Her eyes suddenly stung.

  Without realizing she did so, she slid her mitten down his sleeve and curled her fingers around his hand. “I’m so sorry.” No wonder it was so important for him to find out if he had other brothers and sisters.

  Ben’s hand turned upward and squeezed hers back.

  A few minutes later, the boat reached the other side of the harbor and docked. Ben let go of Ella’s hand and took up their baggage, and they left the water taxi behind.

  When they reached the top of the ramp at street level, she looked back across the water. She could see the distinctive arch of the hotel.

  “Shuttle’s here,” Ben said, drawing her attention.

  She looked away from the hotel and followed him to the bus.

  They flew back on a plane very similar to the first one.

  They’d been in the air nearly an hour when Ella pulled out her notes on Nancy Belgard and showed them to him. “Her name’s Nancy Sylvester now. She had a daughter twenty-five years ago. Sierra. I haven’t been able to trace Sierra, but that’s Nancy’s current address in Chicago.” She flipped to another page in her notebook. “I also have Constance Ray, who worked briefly as one of your dad’s secretaries. Near as I can tell, she moved to Montreal about twenty years ago, shortly after she stopped working for him. She has three kids and the youngest—a girl, also—is about the right age.”

  “Any others?”

  She flipped the notebook page again. “London. An architect there named Keaton Whitfield.” She hesitated for a moment, but then decided there was no point in hiding the detail. It was crucial, after all. “He’s a few months younger than you and Wes,” she continued evenly and pretended not to notice the grimace he gave. “If the number of mentions of him on the internet is any indication, he seems to be fairly well known. His mother’s on the list you gave me.” She handed Ben the notebook so he could look for himself.

  He flipped slowly through the pages. “Hope your passport is up-to-date.”