Ever Fallen in Love, Page 2

  I stopped.

  I ordered my legs to continue walking. They stood firm.

  Slowly, I turned back around. “Tambourines,” I told Theo.

  His eyebrows rose.

  “Drums. The bell on those big horns.”

  “Musical instruments for five hundred?” he asked, a glint of amusement coming into his eyes.

  “Swami Betelbaum, my meditation counselor, says it’s good to think of round things in times of stress,” I explained, staring at him.

  The longer I looked, the less I liked him. He was too handsome, too big, too needy. Just ... too.

  I couldn’t do this. It was the height of folly. He was a stranger, and I ... I couldn’t afford to trust anyone.

  I opened my mouth to say no, but what came out was, “One night. I’ll help you with Peter until you get a nanny tomorrow, although I really do not know anything about kids. I’m just a paralegal from Sacramento. Do you live here in Auckland?”

  “No,” he said, giving me a relieved smile that did far too many things to my insides to make me at all comfortable. “But I may be. I’m thinking of setting up an office here, and just got in to look around when Nastya tracked me down. I’m booked at a hotel not too far from here.”

  If he thought I was going to stay in close confines with him, he was nuts. He’d just have to get me a room of my own. “Whoa, hold on there. I am not staying with you in your hotel room.”

  He gave me another half smile. “It’s a suite. There are two bedrooms.”

  “Which would be fine assuming I trusted you, but I don’t.” I eyed him. There was no way I would consent to spend the night with a man who looked that handsome. Handsome men were never, ever unaware of their appearance. They expected women to tumble into bed just as a matter of fact.

  And why shouldn’t you have a little fun once in a while? my inner voice whispered. That damned inner voice, the one Swami Betelbaum said I had to learn to ignore, for it would lead me away from serenity.

  And I so desperately wanted serenity.

  “The doors have locks. You may lock yourself into your room,” he said, his mouth tight.

  I realized that I’d offended him. And no surprise, I’d more or less accused him of being a rapist, or worse.

  “Locked doors are nothing but an illusion,” I said, suddenly so tired, I just wanted to curl into a little ball and let the world pass me by. How long had it been since I’d slept? “How do I know you’re not some horrible ax-murdering serial killer who’s luring me to his hotel room so he can chop me up into little bits?”

  “I doubt if many serial killers take their ten-month-old sons with them on their killing sprees,” he said with a hint of that sexy half smile. “If you like, I’ll give you the names and numbers of people who will act as a character witness.”

  “Your ax-murdering buddies?” I said with a snort.

  “Only one has an ax,” he answered, the smile definitely there this time. “I can give you the name of a respected banker in Sydney, and my broker in Athens, and ...” His voice grew a little strained. “... my brother. He’s a successful real estate developer.”

  “Uh-huh. I bet he’d say anything for you.”

  “No.” The word was abrupt, but there was a lot of emotion behind it, emotion that I recognized—self-loathing, regret, and sorrow. “If anything, he’s likely to tell you all sorts of unsavory tales about me,” he finished, obviously trying to make light of the situation, his eyes not meeting mine. “He’s eminently respectable, though. He has a wife and four children.”

  One night. The thought danced with dizzying temptation in my brain. Misha would never be able to find me if I wasn’t booked under my own name. I’d have a night where I could rest, actually sleep, without listening for the sound of my murderer creeping upon me unawares.

  One night of safety. I wanted it so much, I could almost taste it.

  “All right,” I said, even as I automatically scanned the crowd. It had become second nature to me now. “But I don’t want the hotel to know my name.”

  He gave me an odd look, but agreed, picking up my bag. I hesitated a minute, then took hold of the stroller and pushed it after him. He paused a few yards away and collected a laptop bag and a small overnight bag.

  “I’m going to call your references, though,” I warned him. “If anything seems wrong, the deal’s off.”

  He inclined his head in acknowledgment and pushed the door with his elbow, holding it open for me.

  I said nothing, but brushed against his arm when I passed through the door, suddenly very much aware of him as a man.

  One that was far too handsome and self-possessed for my peace of mind.

  TWO

  Theo sat in the cab and wondered if life would ever be the same.

  He had a son. A ten-month-old son. His gaze slid over to where the baby sat strapped into the seat between him and Kiera. A child, one that looked like him, so he knew that Nastya wasn’t pulling a fast one. Not that he really thought she would. She might be many things, but her mind was too shallow to work along those sorts of devious routes.

  The paralyzing sense of desperation washed over him when he looked at the baby sleeping next to him. How the hell could he be a father? He couldn’t even straighten out his own life, so how was he supposed to raise a child who wouldn’t turn out to be as big a failure as he was?

  His brother, Iakovos, was the perfect father. Not him. Not the drunkard who almost killed an innocent woman and her two unborn children.

  God, he wanted a drink. No, not just wanted it, he needed it, craved the sense of oblivion that would ease the pain that always seemed to be near, no matter what he did.

  A son.

  He looked at the baby again, trying to assess his feelings. Part of him, what he thought of as the good part, was moved by the sight of the child. Your son, the good side whispered to him, an alien wave of protectiveness gripping him hard in the chest. A son to be protected and nurtured, to be taught. A son who would grow up to be a better man than his father.

  The baby slept with his head crooked to the side. Theo frowned. That couldn’t feel good. Just as he was about to move the baby’s head, Kiera leaned over Peter, adjusting him into a more comfortable position.

  Her gaze met his, and he was aware once again of the condemnation she obviously felt for him. And why shouldn’t she—hadn’t she herself asked what sort of a father didn’t know he had a son, let alone how to care for him?

  “I really didn’t know about him,” he told her, feeling it necessary, for some reason, to explain. “Nastya called this morning, saying she was going to Italy, and she wanted to see me before she left.”

  “Italy?” Kiera asked.

  “She’s a model.” Without thinking, he ran his gaze over her body, assessing and weighing the positives and negatives without being aware he did so. She was taller than medium height, a bit too thin for his taste, with hair that he had first thought was dark brown, but turned a rich auburn in the afternoon light. He couldn’t get a good look at her breasts in the shapeless, baggy T-shirt she wore over a pair of leggings, but they didn’t seem to be overly inspiring. Her face was heart-shaped, heavily freckled, and bore the faint mark of a dimple on one cheek. Her eyes ... her eyes haunted him, even though he was consumed with his own troubles.

  “What are you running from?” he asked softly, so the taxi driver couldn’t overhear.

  She jerked back against the door, eyes the color of the Aegean suddenly wide with fear. She didn’t deny it; she just looked at him with those huge eyes, like a gazelle startled at a water hole. For some bizarre reason he didn’t at all understand, he was aware that the newly born need to protect Peter extended to her, as well.

  He didn’t know her, he reminded himself. True, he’d be in possession of all the available facts about her and her legal history in the next hour, thanks to the text message he’d sent to his assistant while waiting for a cab, but that would give only the details about her life. He didn’t know h
er as a person. And yet ... there was something about her, some sense of fragility, as if she was so wound up, the least little thing would shatter her. The image of a startled deer poised to flee remained with him.

  “What are you afraid of?” he asked.

  “Lots of things,” she said, her gaze dropping to her hands. “Sharks. Poison pygmy darts. De-decapitation.”

  His eyes narrowed on her as she stuttered the last word. She was plainly terrified of something. No, someone. Why else would she agree to stay with a stranger? Some motive was driving her willingness to help him out, despite the fact that she clearly didn’t trust him. He’d never been the lesser of two evils, and he didn’t like the feeling. He wanted to know whom she was afraid of before he entrusted his son to her.

  His son. Would he ever get used to hearing that? Would he ever make even half as good a father as Iakovos? A sense of panic hit him hard in the gut before he pushed it down, telling himself that he didn’t have a choice. He had a son now. He had to be a father even if he hadn’t the slightest idea how to do that.

  “I think I’ll take those references now,” Kiera said, holding out her hand for his phone, which he’d told her she could use to make calls.

  What sort of woman didn’t have a mobile phone in this day and age?

  One who was running from someone.

  He pulled up the address book, picked a number, hit dial, and gave her the phone. “This is Simon, my banker.”

  He listened in silence as she apologized for disturbing the banker and explained that she was calling regarding a business proposition she was considering undertaking. “What I really would like to know is whether you feel Mr. Papaioannou is a good risk.”

  He raised one eyebrow when she studiously avoided meeting his eye.

  “No, no, of course not, I’m not asking for financial information—I just want to know, if you were considering a ... some business with him, would you be comfortable doing so? Well ... I don’t think what sort of business is really pertinent. Either you trust someone or you don’t. No, sir, I do not—”

  Theo sighed, took the phone from her, and said abruptly, “Simon, she wants to know if I’m trustworthy. That’s all,” before handing the phone back to her.

  Her face turned a delicate shade of pink, something that both amused and amazed him. He didn’t think women still blushed. Certainly, the sort of women he usually dated had long since lost that ability. He couldn’t even imagine Nastya blushing over anything.

  “I see. Thank you for your help. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

  She hung up the phone, biting her lower lip for a moment.

  A surge of heat hit him when he looked at her mouth. She had the cutest little rosebud lips that just made him want to taste them.

  “Cantaloupes,” she finally said.

  “Golf balls.”

  She shot him a surprised glance. He smiled.

  “Oreo cookies viewed from the top,” she answered in a challenging voice, then added, “That was really embarrassing, but if you don’t mind, I’d like another reference.” She handed the phone back to him.

  He looked at his watch, and dialed a number. “Hello, Henry. Do me a favor and tell the lady I’m about to put on the phone whether or not you feel my word can be trusted. No, just do it.”

  She took the phone, her gaze still avoiding his. “Hello. Yes, thank you. You do. With ... oh.” The tiniest corner of her mouth curved in the beginning of a smile. “And has he ... no, no, of course not. I see. Thank you very much.”

  “Have I what?” he couldn’t keep from asking as she handed him the phone, her cheeks still pink, but for a moment, her eyes held laughter.

  “He says he would trust you to date his eighteen-year-old daughter, and he can’t say that about anyone else, least of all the young man who is dating her.”

  “Satisfied, or do you want the last one?”

  The smile in her eyes died when she leaned back over Peter, adjusting a lightweight blanket that covered him. “I’d like one more, if you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t, but it’ll have to wait a few minutes,” he said, nodding out of the window as they pulled up in front of an elegant hotel.

  She looked worried, and as they got out of the car, Theo covertly checked his phone, knowing that even an assistant as proficient as Annemarie couldn’t turn up a background check that quickly, but wanting very much to know what she’d find out about Kiera.

  He wasn’t stupid—he wouldn’t place his son in what could be a potentially dangerous situation until he knew more about Kiera, but until then, he reserved the right to be intrigued by her.

  The background report had better have information about whom she was so afraid of. He had a feeling he was going to want to have a word or two with whoever it was.

  THREE

  I was more than a little self-conscious walking into a hotel with a complete stranger, but two things reassured me: the first was that the hotel was large, with a steady stream of people moving in and out of the lobby, and the second was the fact that Theo got a call while he was paying off the taxi driver. That allowed me to edge forward into the lobby while he stood outside talking rapidly in Greek.

  “Look, Peter, people. Lots of people. Aren’t they interesting?” I pushed the baby in his stroller just inside the doorway, pausing to quickly assess the people in the lobby. No one showed even the slightest bit of interest in me. No one rose up to ooze menace and horror, or point a finger and demand the police arrest me. No one so much as looked our way, which did much to calm my already frazzled nerves.

  At the very least, I’d be out of Mikhail’s reach for a night.

  “Sorry about that,” Theo said, appearing suddenly beside me. He picked up his laptop bag and the baby’s bag, leaving the others for the porter, startling me for a second when I felt the warmth of his hand on my back as we entered the lobby proper. “You two stay here. I won’t be long.”

  The baby was starting to fuss again, having woken up just as we arrived at the hotel. I knelt down to check that he wasn’t strapped in too tight, caught a whiff of something horrible, and wrinkled my nose at the deceptively sweet baby.

  “Oh, man, I didn’t even think of that,” I told him, sending up a little prayer that Theo knew how to change a baby. “I’m sorry you’re sitting in your own feces, Peter. I imagine it’s very uncomfortable as well as being extremely stinky, but as soon as your daddy gets us to his room, I’m sure he’ll clean you up and make you happy again. I wonder what you like to eat.”

  Peter, who had been sucking on his fingers, suddenly yelled, “No no no no” when Theo approached, pointing the accusatory wet fingers at him.

  “He can talk,” Theo said, a look of delight crossing his face. “I wonder what else he can say? Can you say ‘Papa,’ Peter? ‘Papa’? Maybe I have a piece of candy... ” Theo set down his laptop bag and started patting the pockets of his suit jacket.

  “He’s not a parrot, Theo,” I said, and, when Peter’s face started to crumple up into more tears, gave in to instincts I didn’t know I possessed and took him out of the stroller, balancing him on my hip while I rubbed his back again. “I’m going to give you a little piece of advice that I hope you take to heart, baby. Never let other people project their expectations onto you. You do not have to say ‘Papa’ if you don’t want to. Just because he’s your father doesn’t mean he has the right to demand things of you that you’re not comfortable providing. You say ‘Papa’ in your own good time. And if you don’t want to do that, you can just call him no no no. We are not here to judge you. Just find your inner happy place, and don’t worry about other people, OK?”

  Theo looked like he wanted to laugh, but he managed to keep a straight face when we went toward the elevator, a porter with our things on a wheeled cart following behind us.

  “Oh, this is quite ... large,” I said a few minutes later, looking around the suite that Theo had booked. The living room alone could probably have fit my previous apartment into it.
>
  Theo paid off the porter, opened the door to one bedroom, then strode across the living room to the other. “Do you have a preference which room you want?”

  I shook my head, still taking in the elegant surroundings.

  “I’ll take this one, then. It has two beds in it.” He collected his luggage and that of the baby, and took them into his room.

  Hadn’t he said something to his ex about not being able to afford the baby? How was he paying for this room if money was tight? He should have downgraded. Or was it a business thing? One of the attorneys in the law firm I’d worked for once told me that appearance was everything, and that if you looked like you had money, people believed you did. Maybe he was putting on a good front for business reasons?

  Guilt pricked me. He’d promised double a normal babysitter’s fee, and I had been willing to take it. “Tires. Olives. Aunt Talia’s left earlobe.”

  Then again, what was I doing there? Was I really willing to help with Peter’s care just for the thought of a night’s sleep? “Sadly, yes, I am,” I said aloud, wincing when another wave of baby stink hit me. “We’re here, and we’ll just deal with situations as they arise, right? Holy cow, baby. That is really powerful.”

  “Your room is there,” Theo said, reemerging to nod toward the other door. “You should probably check that the lock works. I’ll take Peter.”

  “Sure,” I said, handing him the baby and hurrying toward my room. “He needs changing.”

  “What?”

  I paused at the door to my room and saw the moment when he understood. His face twitched as he held the baby out at arm’s length, saying something in Greek, looking like he couldn’t believe that odor came from such a small child.

  And then he looked up and started toward me.

  I spun around, slamming the door shut, and locking it for good measure.

  “Kiera.” His voice was slightly muffled.

  “Yes?”

  “The baby needs changing.”

  “Yes, he does.”