Although perhaps it was better to see it now. Remind herself that he might be able to shove his way into their child’s life legally. But that didn’t mean she had to let him into hers. And she would move heaven and earth to keep her son or daughter from having to see that same look on his face, from ever falling into the trap their grandmother had of wondering if they just weren’t enough.
She turned and continued down the road. She didn’t look back. If he didn’t trust her, better to cut the cord now before she got any deeper.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CALANDRACUPPEDHERhands around her mug of tea as she watched the waves crash along the beach. The rising sun warmed her skin as she relaxed at what she’d come to think of as her table on the patio. Sea salt danced on the air. The perfect setting for rest and relaxation.
Or it would have been if her damn heart would stop kicking into overdrive every time she thought she heard someone approach. Even though her time at the culinary school had served as a welcome distraction, Alejandro had been ever-present in her mind, intruding and refusing to let her eject him from her thoughts. Already she’d made a mistake; she’d lowered her defenses at the harbor, on their walk. She’d taken the olive branch he’d offered too easily. Had it been his simple, sweet plea that he wanted to get to know her better? Or the feeling of his hand rubbing circles on the back of her hand and stirring memories of that same hand closing over her breast with a possessive heat?
Whatever it was, she’d caved. Not five minutes later, he’d shown that he didn’t trust her, that money was more important than anything else and, worst of all, that once something or someone challenged him, he shut them out.
She’d entertained the idea of calling his bluff and booking a flight back to North Carolina. But she’d be running away, tail between her legs, and merely putting off a battle that would turn into a full-scale legal war.
So she’d forced herself to carry on yesterday. She’d spent nearly three hours at the school, a three-story building with creamy blue walls covered with photos of beaming graduates and colorful culinary concoctions. Her mood had been significantly bolstered, partially because of the delectable food and partially because of the energetic company of Suzie Giordano, a short woman with a long silver braid draped over one shoulder and a booming voice. The crinkles etched into her skin that told a story of years of smiling and laughter had reminded Calandra of Aunt Norine. She’d relaxed almost instantly and even smiled back.
Suzie had given her a tour of the school, weaving in and out of the classes in session, providing tips to eager students and the occasional joke in rapid-fire French. By the time she’d sat Calandra down at a small table on the balcony on the third floor, she was almost certain that she’d found the right place. One bite of canapés Lorenzo had settled it, savoring the taste of the crispy parmesan cheese and hearty crabmeat.
Part of what had made her so successful as an event planner, especially in New York, had been her ability to identify talent and solidify new relationships. She had known as soon as she’d seen the arrangement at a floral show that the girl who’d dropped out of college would be the next sought-after florist. She’d locked in an exclusive deal with a string quartet made up of a schoolteacher, a retired army colonel and twins who ran a bookstore in SoHo.
Most would have laughed at the notion that Calandra Smythe, the ice queen herself, was capable of building relationships. When it came to the billionaires and lofty business professionals she’d worked with, that was absolutely true.
But when it came to the people those billionaires and professionals looked down on, she thrived. Her blunt words, her loyalty to those who showed up and did their job, had made her successful.
Calandra glanced up. Nine o’clock in the morning as the sun climbed higher into the Mediterranean sky. In Kitty Hawk the moon would still be up, turning the surface of the ocean into an ethereal silver that lit up her attic bedroom.
Ever since finding out about the baby, she’d looked at Aunt Norine’s house with new eyes. While it had been a refuge after her mother’s funeral, she’d resisted calling it “home.” Now, thousands of miles away, she longed for the creaky porch and the worn but stark white lace curtains that hung in the windows.
Lace curtains that, despite their overly bleached, frayed appearance, reminded her of the gauzy curtains hanging in the suite in New York, filtering the streetlights and casting shifting shadows over Alejandro’s incredible body as they’d made love.
Another memory blazed forth before she could stop it. The night of the party in New York, when four members of the cleaning crew had failed to show, she’d kicked off her heels, grabbed a trash bag and started cleaning up. It had been just after midnight, she’d been exhausted and had wanted nothing more than to crawl in bed.
She’d turned after clearing one of the tables and nearly run into Alejandro, sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up, tie undone and hanging around his neck.
“What can I do?”
Those four words had rocked the foundation of who she thought him to be. He stayed for two hours, helping her pack away centerpieces, toss tablecloths into laundry baskets and, just as they’d been about to call it a night, had taken the mop he’d been wielding and performed a tango across the ballroom floor.
She’d laughed. He’d grinned, not a playboy’s smirk but a friendly, heart-melting smile that had heated her blood. They’d gotten into the elevator. Who moved first, she’d never know. They’d crashed into each other, drawn in by the power of a desire they’d been suppressing for years that had suddenly burst free and claimed them in one soul-altering kiss.
The man he’d been that night was the man her heart remembered. The man she could accept, even embrace, as the father of her child.
Although the more he talked aboutLa Reina, the more he revealed of himself, the more she remembered their interactions over the years, how she’d started to become aware when he walked into a room or even looked forward to the conversations they’d have.
Was the man she’d started to see real? Or an illusion?
Doesn’t matter. He doesn’t trust you, her brain reminded her with cruel honesty.
Adrian had trusted her. Yes, he’d required evidence, plans, documentation. When she’d suggested an appetizer for the last release party that included BBQ sauce, she’d had to show him sales of the condiment in the United States and the recipe she’d obtained from a famous chef.
But he’d trusted her. Alejandro, on the other hand, only cared about impressing his board.
For one brief moment, when he’d tried to persuade her to try on the dress, she thought he’d seen something most people missed. That she had dreams, hopes, desires, beyond her career. That she exuded coldness because, ever since her mother’s passing, she’d had to, to stay sane, to stay strong for Johanna.
Stupid. If she just clung to the memories of him with his parade of women, the overly cheery insults he’d lobbed at her over the years, she could keep him at arm’s length.
“How was the food?” His husky voice interrupted her thoughts. Her heart jumped, but her hands stayed steady on her tea mug. She could do this.
“Delicious,” she replied. “Too bad you missed it.”