THE BILLIONAIRE'S BABY (A Secret Baby Romance) (37 page)

I greeted her with a brief nod, then focused my gaze straight ahead. I was ridiculously afraid of revealing just how much I wanted to look if I let my eyes linger on her for a moment longer.

She seemed slightly taken aback by this less than polite acknowledgment and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The idea sent a surge of discomfort coursing through me. I wanted to comfort her, and the knowledge of that scared me. I remained silent. But I had to acknowledge that no woman had ever been able to captivate me so completely after only a glance.

She cleared her throat and said in a timid, clear voice, “Hi, um…I’m Tia. It’s nice to meet you.”

Her voice was warm and mesmerizing, like a babbling brook. I turned my head and, for the first time, caught her gaze. I held it for much longer than was polite, letting everything I was feeling pour into that single gaze. Her hazel eyes flashed with momentary confusion as she read something in the intensity of my gaze. Almost instinctually, as if she had no control over it, her lips parted slightly in response.

The moment caught me by surprise, and deep in my gut I felt a longing I had never felt before. That single moment of craziness captured who I was, who I had been and would become, and transformed it into something entirely new. I sensed, even then, that there was no going back. The man who didn’t believe in love, let alone love at first sight, was fading and becoming a new man. The fallacious irony of these strange feelings was not lost on me.

I don’t remember making a conscious decision to kiss her. It seemed the only logical next step. I leaned over in my seat and kissed her on her beautiful, alluring, full lips. She resisted for the smallest moment, and then I felt her give in. Her lips parted, deepening the kiss, and I slid the tip of my tongue between them. Through the silk of her dress, I felt her nipples harden against my chest.

My pants instantly felt tighter, and a growl surfaced in my throat. I felt her squirm, as if unable to control herself. Crazily, the only coherent thought in my head was that I would do anything to get my mouth on those delicious nipples.

But before I could act on the fantasy, reality sunk in: the gates to my father’s estate were opening on both sides of our car.

I pulled back and swore silently that this was the hardest damn thing I had ever had to do in my entire life. Next to me, Tia took a breath—more like a gasp—which captured my attention again. However, she had also realized we had arrived at our destination. She dragged her gaze away from me to look out the window, took another deep breath, and ran her hand through her hair to smooth it.

I watched, fascinated, as the hand strayed nervously to her neck, smoothing across it as if straightening a necklace or a chain. It stopped, poised and still, once it realized nothing hung there. It was a subtle movement, like a nervous tick, and I recognized an instinctive habit, something to distract herself from situations or emotions, like a kind of lucky charm that offered comfort. Except that right now, it wasn’t there, and I sensed her loss.

Her hand fell in her lap, and she looked down, her cheeks flushed, her lips still parted. Instantly, I knew I had never seen anything more beautiful in my life. I wanted her here, beside me, forever. I wanted to own her. The outrageous thought—one, which flared to life of its own volition—left me ashamed of myself. Below the surge of guilt, I realized with a jolt that this unknown girl whom I had literally met for the first time in my life had achieved the impossible. I respected her.

“So you know how this works? We’re here just as friends. We met at, um. . .” I trailed off, trying to think of something and, at the same time, distracted by her long, smooth arms.

“A Basquiat exhibition in New York,” she finished. I looked at her with a mixture of confusion and admiration. “On your profile, in your favorite quotation, it said, 'I don't listen to what art critics say. I don’t know anybody who needs a critic to find out what art is.' It’s one of my favorite quotes by Basquiat as well,” she finished, her eyes still downcast.

Okay, so she had brains. I would be lying if I didn’t say it was an additional turn-on. “Yeah. Okay. There was one at the Brooklyn Museum last month.” I hastened to keep up the conversation before my pants began to feel tight and uncomfortable again. “And we’re here just as friends,” I added in a stern tone, which made her look up from her lap and directly at me. Her eyes were hazel and almond-shaped, her lashes long. I stopped speaking.

“I know, of course,” she said politely. “Anything else?”

“No, not really. I think we’re good.”

Todd held the door open as she got out of the car, then I followed.

My parents’ home is a huge estate of a house. A long, winding driveway leads to the front entrance. The house itself is big enough to hide anything completely from view for a long distance, and behind it, there are acres and acres of gardens. Like most of their events, tonight’s was hosted here. The front of the house was lit up but empty.

I walked cautiously, a step behind Tia. Who was this girl, and what had she done to me after barely half an hour? I watched her feet trace delicate steps along the stone path, fascinated by the graceful movement of her legs under the red silk dress. I averted my eyes to look at everything around me—anything,
really—but could not keep my gaze averted from her for more than a few seconds.

She turned around to look at me, her eyes questioning: we had reached the front of the house. The way to the back lawns led around both sides of the house, but I wanted her to walk through
the house with me. I cleared my throat and opened the front door for her. As I held it open, her eyes conveyed a mixture of confusion and mistrust, but she walked in. We walked through the splendid front entrance and down the hallway that ran the length of the house, turning once. The walls on either side were adorned with large paintings, photographs of our ancestors, and a valuable collection of art. I detected a longing in her eyes, as if she wanted to stop and take her time perusing each painting individually, but she continued walking.

A babble of voices, lights, and artificial laughter hit us as soon as we walked through the doors to the back lawns. At my side, Tia stopped for a second and took a deep breath. I spotted my mother waving at me from a crowd of overdressed women. I smiled politely as the women around her turned to look at us.

My father emerged from nowhere and hugged me. “Neal, my boy!” he boomed in my ear. “It’s good to have you back!”

When he released me, I introduced him to Tia. “Tia, this is my father, Brian Callaway. Dad, Tia.”

My father looked like he wanted to say something, but he refrained; instead, he took a long swig of the champagne in his hand. That allowed just enough time for my mother to swoop down on us. As I introduced her to Tia, I registered someone hovering behind her.

The girl who emerged from behind my mother had long, strawberry-blonde hair, a heart-shaped face and was of medium height, which she had compensated for with impossibly high heels. She had big doe eyes plastered with heavy eyeshadow. The dress she wore was hardly even there but somehow managed to portray a fair bit of class at the same time. She hugged me, both she and my mom cooing “Surprise!” at the same time. Alisha Banks.

I stared at her, a little shell shocked by her unexpected reappearance in my world. Alisha had been my only serious girlfriend through college. I can’t say that I loved her, but we had a good time together. Until I found out that her father was a close friend of my dad’s and that she had slept with two of my friends—while we were dating—and broke things off with her.

Now, five years later, here she was, curvier than before, her hair longer and her smile wider. A sudden image of a wolf baring its teeth before springing on its prey flashed into my mind.

“Alisha, this is Tia. She is my date tonight.” I remembered I was supposed to introduce her as my friend as soon as the words left my mouth, but, perversely, I did not regret making the change in the slightest.

“Ooh, I was kinda hoping you wouldn’t have one.” She grinned again, not caring how rude her comment was.

I took Tia’s hand in mine. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I do.”

Tia waited for an instant before taking her hand out of mine and extending it to shake Alisha’s. “It’s very nice to meet you, Alisha,” she said softly.

“Very nice to meet you, too,” Alisha replied with a smile that was more of a sneer than anything else. She returned her eyes to mine. “I had hoped the two of us could rekindle our friendship, Neal. It’s been so long.”

“Yes, it has, and for a reason. Excuse us,” I interjected before Alisha could respond. “There are a few people we need to say hello to.”

Tia and I spent the next half an hour walking around the lawn and meeting different people—friends, acquaintances, donors, and relatives. However, after half an hour, I found myself at a table with some of my dad’s old friends; Tia had been swept away to a table with my mother, Alisha, and a gaggle of other women.

I watched her from a distance as she made polite conversation with women she seemed to have nothing in common with. She said something which made most of the women around the table laugh out loud, though she responded with a gentle smile. That soft expression was beginning to etch itself into my brain.

As I watched, Alisha cut her off mid-sentence, and the attention of the group diverted from Tia to Alisha. It was rude, and Tia looked down—another habit I was becoming familiar with. The women laughed and looked at Tia; whatever Alisha had said had been directed at
Tia. I saw her cheeks color rapidly and felt my blood pressure rise in response.

In a flash, I was out of my chair and at the table. Working hard to control my temper and trying my best to sound polite, I interrupted their vulgar laughter. “Ladies, I hope you won’t mind if I borrow my date for a while.”

Tia looked up at me, and I couldn’t decipher the expression in her eyes. She stood up, and after excusing herself politely, she followed me back to the house.

Once inside, I shut the door and turned towards her. “What did Alisha say?” I demanded. My question surprised her.

“What? Nothing.” She blushed hotly.

I looked at her flaming face, curtained by her beautiful, straight hair, and felt a pull deep inside me like nothing I had ever experienced before. Before I realized what I was doing, I leaned in and kissed her again. Her lips responded to mine as if she had simply reacted, not thought about what she was doing.

Her lips tasted like cherries. I took the upper one between both of mine and sucked. Unexpectedly, a low moan built up in her throat, and as I slid my tongue into her mouth, Tia locked her fingers at the back of my neck and pulled me close.

Flames shot up through my entire body as I felt her nipples harden under her silk dress again, tight against my chest. I pushed her back up against the wall and put my hand on one of her small, tender breasts.

Out of nowhere, Tia pulled back. Her eyes were wide and her lips parted. “I should go,” she gasped.

“Listen—” Before I could say anything, she turned and walked, almost ran, ahead of me.

It took me a moment to pull myself together before I followed her. We reached the front of the house, and she hurried down the front steps without looking back. “Tia…” I began again.

She turned around to face me. “Please,” she said, her eyes pleading, and I stopped in my tracks. “I have to go.”

She walked towards the gate while I remained standing in the front of the house, watching her leave. She was walking away from me. This girl I had met less than two hours ago, who had taken my breath away from the moment I had first looked at her. Whom I had kissed twice in less than those two hours of knowing her… She was walking away from me. Not just that, I thought as I watched her tall, slender figure move further and further away, but this was the only girl who had made me feel like there was more to life, something of value outside of my own self-focused existence. In that moment, I felt that I had been asleep my whole life and was suddenly wide awake, looking all around me, absorbing everything for the first time. She was the first person to ever jolt me awake.

And I was pretty sure she would be the last.

Tia

“Nooooo,” I screamed as I took off the single bangle around my wrist and hurled it at the wall. “No,” I sobbed and sat down with my head in my hands. It was not supposed to happen like this! This was not supposed to happen.

I had told myself over and over again to maintain a safe distance at all times. I’d repeatedly gone over all the possible scenarios in my head and prepared myself for them. What I had not prepared myself for was the way I had reacted to his touch.

As I thought about it, I could feel my insides melting again. “Get a hold of yourself!” I yelled at myself like a schizophrenic, staring at my reflection in the full-length mirror.

What had happened?
The last two hours were a blur in my head. I had walked out of the Callaway house and waited outside for a cab for fifteen minutes. He had not followed me.

He had not followed me.

The thought made me want to chuck something at the wall again. I had to pull myself together. I was all over the place.

I pulled back my hair and tied it into a ponytail. I walked over to Ella’s room and grabbed a small pack of makeup wipes from her dressing table, knowing she wouldn't mind. Standing in front of her mirror, I cleaned my face of all remnants of makeup and tears.