Her Baby Secret
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Victoria Pade
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11
Chapter One
Paris Hanley recognized the voice the minute she heard it. A baritone as deep and rich as Dutch cocoa.
It was coming from the family room of the house she shared with her mother and her daughter, Hannah, and it made Paris forget all about shucking the shoes she’d been dying to get off her aching feet the minute she walked in the door. It made her follow the sound of that distinctive voice in a rush.
“There she is!” her mother exclaimed when Paris burst through the archway of the family room. Then, to Paris, she said, “Look who’s here.”
Paris had been right. There, with Janine Hanley, sat Ethan Tarlington.
But his presence didn’t please her as much as it seemed to please her mother.
“Hi,” he greeted.
“Hello,” Paris responded without a bit of warmth.
The coolness was uncalled for. He hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, he’d done everything as right as he possibly could have. It was just that she wasn’t proud of what she’d let happen between them the one and only other time they’d been together. And the fact that it had served her purposes only complicated things.
So she amended her tone to one of curiosity even as she put herself between Ethan Tarlington and the playpen where her five-month-old daughter was peacefully napping.
“This is a surprise,” she said then.
“I knew it would be,” her mother said, even though Paris hadn’t intended the comment for her. “Imagine the man from the picture showing up on our doorstep. Of course, I wouldn’t have let him in if I hadn’t recognized him from the snapshot, but since I did I thought you’d be glad to see him again.”
The snapshot.
The instant snapshot that Paris had taken when she was supposed to be taking pictures of the tables for the caterer’s portfolio and Ethan Tarlington had somehow found his way into the viewfinder instead.
The snapshot she’d pocketed for no reason she’d understood and kept in her sweater drawer ever since. In her sweater drawer where her mother had happened upon it and come to her own false conclusions about Paris having some kind of crush on him.
“Well, I have things to do, so I’ll leave you two to talk,” Janine said then, getting up from the wicker chair that faced the identical one Ethan Tarlington was sitting in.
Paris wanted to tell her mother to take Hannah with her but she was afraid of drawing too much attention to the baby. In fact, it occurred to her that standing where she was, nearly hovering over the playpen, might do the same thing, so she moved to sit in the seat her mother had vacated.
“Ick, you smell like sausage,” Janine said with a laugh as their paths crossed.
“That’s what I’ve been demo-ing all day.”
“At the grocery store,” Ethan Tarlington contributed. “Your mother told me you’re still doing odd jobs so you can paint.”
“Yes, I am.”
Janine bid them a general goodbye and left, and for the first time since Paris had come into the room she let her gaze settle directly on Ethan Tarlington.
Either he’d gotten even better-looking or the snapshot and her memory of him hadn’t done him justice because it struck Paris all over again how devastatingly handsome he was.
Hair the color of espresso, which he wore devil-may-care longer on top than on the sides or back and finger-combed to perfection. Cerulean-blue eyes so striking, so piercing, they hardly seemed real. A nose that was just hawkish enough to give him character and distinction. Chiseled cheekbones and a jawline so sharp it could slice bread. Lips that managed to be thin and sensuous at once. Broad shoulders and the body to go with them on legs that she knew would elevate him to a full six-four if he were standing.
The perfect specimen.
But that was the last thing she should be thinking about.
So she tried not to, put a businesslike tone into her voice and said, “This really is a surprise.”
“Not one you sound too happy about,” he said with an arch of well-shaped eyebrows.
No, she wasn’t happy about seeing him again. But she couldn’t say that so she didn’t say anything at all.
“Cinderella is supposed to be thrilled to see the prince, isn’t she?” he added into the brief silence she left. “Or don’t I fit that bill?”
Oh, he fit it, all right. At least, he would have under different circumstances.
“I don’t think that I’m a likely Cinderella.”
“We met at the ball, spent the evening together and you disappeared into thin air. Isn’t that Cinderella?”
Except the ball had been a Denver-area charity dinner in his honor and she hadn’t been there as a guest all dolled up in a fairy godmother’s gift of gown and slippers. She’d been hired by the caterer as a cocktail waitress and she’d been wearing black trousers and a tuxedo shirt.
And she hadn’t disappeared at the respectable stroke of midnight…
“I tried to find you before this,” Ethan Tarlington continued. “For that whole next week afterward. But you aren’t listed in the phone book and you didn’t leave me even an e-mail address. The caterer wouldn’t give me any information about you—in case I was a stalker, I guess. Plus you didn’t really tell me anything about yourself except that you were a struggling artist. When I called several galleries and finally found someone who had heard of you, she wouldn’t tell me anything, either, because she was angling to be the middleman if I was interested in buying some of your work. Then I ran out of time and—”
“Left the country—you told me you were going to. And that you didn’t know when you’d be back. That made it seem unlikely that there would be a second…date.”
“Still, I thought we hit it off.”
“It was a nice enough night,” was all Paris would concede. Then she said, “How did you find me now?”
“It was fate. I was flying home last week, reading magazines on the plane, and I hit an article about up-and-coming young artists in the Denver area. Since I’d met one of those—namely you—I read the article and there you were. So I thought, why not give it another try? I called the magazine, talked to the writer, and here I am—looking you up.”
“Ah.”
Maybe fate was paying her back.
“What snapshot was your mother talking about?” Ethan Tarlington asked then.
“It was one of several I took for the caterer that night. The kind that develop within a few minutes. I caught you by mistake and it wasn’t a very good shot of the table setting so I stuck it in my pocket and just happened to bring it home with me.”
Okay, so that was partially untrue. She could easily have altered her view before she took the picture, but she wasn’t really sure why she hadn’t, and she wasn’t going to tell him that any more than she was going to let him know she’d hung on to it all this time.
Besides, she didn’t want to talk about that night so she changed the subject. “Did everything go the way you’d planned overseas?”
“It took longer than I thought it would, but, yes, I did what I set out to do. I opened offices in London, Paris, Amsterdam, Geneva, Hong Kong and Brisbane for Tarlington Integrated Business and Government Software.”
“So you’re worldwide. Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” he said without conceit. But then, that was one of the things she’d liked about him when she’d met him—his ego was not proportional to his reputation, status or megamillion-dollar net worth as one of the stars in the computer software industry.
It seemed to be his turn to change the subject. “Looks like you’ve been pretty busy yourself,” he said with a nod in the direction of the playpen. “A baby by artificial insemination, according to your mother.”
Paris couldn’t keep from grimacing at that. “She told you?”
“She said you had some female problems and couldn’t wait around for Mr. Right.”
The details were even worse. How could her mother have blabbed about her health problems, too?
“My mother talks too much.”
“Hannah is a beautiful baby, though.”
“You saw her? I mean, was she awake when you got here?”
“Awake and cooing and smiling at me like an angel.”
That was not good news to Paris.
But what was done was done and there wasn’t anything she could do about it now, so instead she decided to try for a little damage control by cutting this visit short.
“I’m afraid that angel has a doctor’s appointment I need to get her to,” she lied. “I don’t mean to be rude but—”
“Is she sick?”
“No, it’s just a well-baby checkup.”
“I see.”
But he didn’t get up to go. Instead he turned his head to look at the playpen again for a long moment.
Then he focused on Paris again and said, “Your mom is a nice lady. Talkative.”
“I suppose she is.” Paris wondered why he’d started that rather than taking her invitation to leave.
“She told me some things about what’s going on with you now.”
A wave of panic washed through Paris until she remembered that her mother couldn’t tell what she didn’t know. But still, she was curious about what he meant so she said, “And what exactly did my talkative mother have to say about me?”
“That it was harder for you to make ends meet with the baby and that you really need money for a new car—which was why you were handing out food samples at the grocery store.”
“And she probably made me sound like a martyr or something when she said it, too,” Paris said with a small laugh to downplay her mother’s report. “My being a single parent by choice is something she’s had a hard time grasping.”
“Maybe. But she’s proud of you. And she’s crazy about Hannah.”
“Hannah is the light of her life.”
“What she said got me to thinking while I’ve been here, though, and there might be a job you could do for me.”
“Do you have sausages that need demonstrating?”
She had absolutely not intended that to sound suggestive in any way. But somehow that’s how it had come out.
And it hadn’t escaped Ethan Tarlington because his sensuous mouth stretched into a slow smile. A slow smile she remembered all too well.
“No, no sausage demonstrations,” he said with a hint of innuendo in his tone, too. “But you do temporary work and that’s what this is. Every year I throw a formal dinner party for the people who live in the town where my brothers and I grew up. Dunbar—it’s out on the eastern plains, just before Limon. A small town. Not many people this close to Denver have heard of it.”
“I haven’t.”
“Well, anyway, the party takes a lot of preparation and organization, and since I like to relax and catch up with old friends while I’m there I need someone else to oversee everything. It’s a week from tomorrow—next Saturday night—and it’s the last-minute things that can bog me down. So what if you came along to Dunbar to do it for me? There’s no hotel or motel, but I’ll put you up in my house, and for that single week’s work I’ll pay you enough to buy a new car outright.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not. It isn’t the reason I looked you up, but since things seem to have changed and we’re both in need, we’d both come out ahead.”
Her need was clearly greater than his. Which made for quite a dilemma suddenly.
Her mother had been right about the fact that since she’d had Hannah it had been more and more difficult to make ends meet selling the occasional painting and doing odd jobs. And just since Hannah’s birth her old clunker of a car had broken down three times, one of them stranding the two of them on a miserably cold, rainy night just two weeks before. The incident had left Paris worried every time she took Hannah out in it now.
The mechanic had left no question that the car had to be replaced, but without steady employment she hadn’t been able to qualify for either a loan or a lease on anything else. And she honestly didn’t know what to do about it.
Except that now, sitting only a few feet away from her, was a solution.
It was just that that solution was Ethan Tarlington. The man she’d counted on never seeing again.
“I don’t have anyone to leave Hannah with,” she said suddenly. “My mother is the only person I feel comfortable leaving her with for a whole week, and she’s going to Florida tomorrow to visit her sister.”
“I know, she told me.”
What hadn’t she told him?
“But that’s not a problem,” Ethan assured her. “The house in Dunbar is big enough to get lost in so there’s plenty of room for Hannah, too. Most of what you’ll do can be done with her right by your side, but if it can’t, there’ll be someone to stay with her because there’s a live-in staff of three, plus both of my brothers will be there.”
He leaned slightly forward and added in a confidential tone, “That also means five chaperones, in case that makes you feel any better.”
It didn’t.
But Paris found herself considering his offer in spite of that.
The thought just kept going through her mind that he was only talking about one week. A single week’s work that would net her enough money to replace her car.
How much time would Ethan really be spending with her or Hannah, anyway? she reasoned. He was hiring her to free himself to see his friends. Didn’t that mean that she would merely be part of the staff and that he wouldn’t be giving her or her daughter a second glance?
It seemed likely. More than likely.
And then she could buy a new, safe car…
“If I do this I want it clear that what happened between us before is not going to happen again. I’ll be working for you and that’s all. Strictly business.”
“Strictly business,” he agreed without hesitation.
Something about the speed of that concession stung her, though. She didn’t understand it, and while she was examining her reaction he seemed to consider the matter settled and stood.
But rather than heading for the front of the house to leave, he surprised her yet again by going to the playpen.
That stopped Paris’s examination of her feelings instantly as she nearly jumped to her feet to follow him like a protective mother bear.
“Still snoozing,” he said softly, peering into the playpen.
“She’s a sound sleeper. She probably won’t wake up until I get her to the doctor’s office,” Paris said to restate her earlier claim of an appointment so that he really might leave.
“Guess I won’t be able to say goodbye to her, then.”
“No, I guess not.”
But he still stood there for another long moment, watching the baby sleep. And giving Paris second thoughts about accepting his job offer.
But it was for Hannah’s sake, she reminded herself. The new car she would get out of it was for Hannah’s safety.
Then Ethan Tarlington finally broke off his scrutiny of her daughter and headed out of the family room.
“So you’ll take the job in Dunbar?” he said along the way.
Again Paris had doubts.
But again she also had to consider the benefits, and choose those over the risks.
“Yes, I’ll take the job.”
“Strictly business,” he reminded, as if he could tell she’d wanted him to.
“Strictly business,” she confirmed.
“Okay, then, I’ll pick you up at nine Monday morning.”
“Maybe it would be better if Hannah and I got there on our own. Is there a bus or train or something?”
“There’s a bus that runs from Denver and back but I don’t know what the schedule is. And if you drive in with me you’ll get there in time to go right to work.”
And he was the boss, so what was she going to say to that?
“Nine o’clock Monday morning it is, then, I guess.”
They’d reached the door and Paris opened it for him, hoping he wouldn’t linger any longer than he already had.
But her hopes were for naught because that’s just what he did. Lingering to take a slow, concentrated look at her, his azure eyes going from the top of her short spiky brown hair to her still-aching toes and back again.
“You don’t look like a woman who was pregnant only five months ago. You look great. Even better than I remembered.”
Paris hated how much that pleased her. “I was careful during the pregnancy. I ate a lot of fruits and vegetables so I didn’t gain too much more than baby weight. It went away not long after Hannah was born.”
And why was she telling him that, when she should have been telling him the whole subject was not something an employer and an employee had any reason to be discussing?
“Will there be a uniform I’ll need to wear?” she asked then, as if that were the only reason she could think of for him to say anything about her appearance. And to cover her own unwelcome response to his compliment.
“No, no uniform. You can wear your regular clothes. I was just appreciating the postnatal you is all,” he said with another of those smiles that were one of the reasons she’d let him sweep her off her feet that other time they’d met.
But she had a lot at stake now and she was determined not to lose sight of that. So she raised a prudish chin to him and said, “Strictly business.”
“Strictly business,” he agreed again, just as quickly as the first time.
And like the first time, it stung once more.
Then he said, “Have a nice weekend,” and stepped out onto the porch.
“Thanks,” she responded just before she closed the door behind him and deflated against it.
And that was when it occurred to her why Ethan Tarlington had been so eager to keep things between them strictly business.
It was because of Hannah.
After all, hadn’t he said that first night that he wasn’t ready for marriage and kids? That they weren’t on his near horizon?
He had. And she hadn’t doubted for a minute that he’d meant it.
Plus he’d originally “looked her up” because he’d thought they had “hit it off” and he wanted to see her again, yet somewhere along the way he’d obviously gone from wanting to see her again to just wanting her to work for him.
Hannah. It had to be Hannah who had changed things.
But that was okay. It was better than okay, it was for the best.
Because if Ethan Tarlington didn’t want to date someone with a child he would keep his distance. He would relegate her completely to the role of employee while he went on about his business.
And that was a good thing. It was just what she wanted.
Except that if it was just what she wanted, why did it sting the same way his eager agreements to keep things strictly business between them had?
She hated to admit it, but this time when she explored her own feelings she realized that it was disappointing that he didn’t want her. Child or no child.
But it was for the best, she told herself firmly. Because as long as Ethan Tarlington didn’t want her, as long as he saw her as nothing more than an employee, as long as he stayed away from her and away from Hannah, he could remain oblivious to the fact that Hannah was his daughter.
And that was just how Paris wanted it.
