Théo hadn’t wanted children until he could give them a true home—a rock-solid foundation that would last for life. He’d always known how his life would be.
He’d never expected this.
“This is Henry, Théo. Your son.”
Carrie was lying, of course. She had to be lying. It was impossible. He’d always used a condom when they’d made love.
And yet…
He looked at her in the moonlit garden. Her big hazel eyes were dark in the shadows, almost haunted in the pale, beautiful face beneath the waves of her glossy chestnut hair. In her white jacket, tank top and floaty skirt, he saw that her slim figure had rounded into womanly curves that made it difficult for him to look away from her body. So he forced himself to look back into her guarded, resentful eyes.
The girl he’d known in Seattle had been a sweet, idealistic, fierce dreamer—an impractical young woman who worked as a waitress by day, scribbled poetry by night, lived with her parents and had a head full of fairytales. It had taken him a full week to seduce her—which was unusual for his affairs. And when he’d finally taken her in his bed upstairs he’d discovered the reason for her shyness: he’d been her first lover.
Théo still shuddered with the intense heat of the memory. Their time together had been far too short. Just a weekend here, then a night in Seattle weeks later, when he’d concluded the acquisition of a Japanese shipping company. Their brief affair had been the most amazing sexual experience of his life, and God knew he had a lot to compare it with. He’d never wanted it to end.
Then she’d ruined everything.
Carrie had been lying in his arms in bed, after a full night making love in his hotel suite. She’d suddenly looked up at him in the slanted gray light of a misty Seattle morning and out of nowhere she’d whispered, “I love you, Théo.”
Within seconds he’d been out of the bed and in the shower. He’d gotten dressed without answering any of her bewildered questions. Ten minutes later he’d checked out of his hotel room and was en route to the airport.
He’d known he would never see Carrie again. He’d told himself he didn’t care. No matter how mind-blowing the sex had been, he’d soon forget her—like all the rest.
Except he hadn’t. Not even close.
For the past year, no matter how spectacular his conquests—either in business or with women—he’d been eternally unsatisfied. Worst of all, it had started to affect his work. Recently he’d bought a steel business in Rio de Janeiro at a loss, taking it from his rival by overbidding a huge amount. He’d thought the empty gnawing in his gut would be filled by stealing the family business from his longtime rival Gabriel Santos.
Instead, all he’d gained was an aging Brazilian steel company he didn’t really want, and the knowledge that he’d wasted a great deal of money to get it. Even splitting up the most profitable divisions of Açoazul S.A. wouldn’t compensate him for the price he’d paid. And he’d lost one of his finest vineyards in Champagne in the deal.
He’d won, only to discover that he’d lost.
Finally, Théo had surrendered to his body’s demands. He’d sent for Carrie to propose a no-strin
gs affair. He’d rationalized that she’d learned her lesson and would know never to mention the word love to him again.
He’d never expected a child.
And right now Théo saw the child being walked straight out the door in his mother’s arms.
“Wait,” he said harshly.
Carrie paused at the door, not looking back at him.
“If he is really my son,” he ground out, “why didn’t you tell me? How could you have kept him secret for a year?”
“Secret!” she gasped, whirling around in fury. “I left messages for months, begging you to call me!”
He set his jaw. “I ignored your messages because I thought you would repeat words I have no interest in hearing. I didn’t want you to embarrass yourself. Or me.”
Carrie’s cheeks went red. “I am embarrassed,” she whispered. Blinking fast, she looked away. “I’m ashamed every time I remember how much I loved you.”
Looking at her beautiful face, at the tight posture of her body as she held the baby against her chest, Théo felt a strange emotion—one he barely recognized. Guilt.
Furious, he glared at her. “We had a deal, Carrie. From the day we met you knew I only wanted a physical affair, nothing more. You are the one who betrayed that. You are the one who crossed the line.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. She took a deep breath. “You’re right,” she said in a low voice. “We did have a deal. But I was too much of an innocent to know how making love to you would bind my heart. And I didn’t realize you’d be able to toss me aside so easily the moment I admitted my feelings.” Her voice trembled and she looked away. “The next man I love will be different,” she whispered. “He will be honest and strong. He will love me back.”
The next man I love. A low sense of unease went through Théo’s soul like a roll of distant thunder. The next man I love. The thought of Carrie taking a lover disquieted him. More than disquieted. Enraged. He tried to push away the feeling. Jealousy was just another form of weakness—of attachment.