Kat came over immediately and drove Swan to the hospital. Kat was extremely concerned for her friend as she moaned with each sharp pain. She was more than grateful when she finally pulled up to the emergency entrance and found a nurse to guide Swan into a wheel chair and take over from there. Two hours later after a difficult labor, Swan birthed a healthy baby boy with fuzzy black hair and very loud lungs.
Swan had fallen asleep soon after the birth of her son. Now, she was wide awake and lay in the hospital bed smiling. She knew exactly what her baby boy looked like. She didn’t know how she knew, she just did. She heard a little noise next to her. She turned her head and opened her eyes. A little person was looking directly at her. He immediately, scrunched up his face and began to howl. She was fascinated with the antics that he was performing and even more so with her own as she watched her hand travel out to pick him up and soothe him.
The nurse soon appeared at the doorway with some nourishment and Swan’s new baby boy began to calm down. There was so much activity that it wasn’t until the nurse shut the door that Swan realized a double miracle had happened. The trauma (just as the doctors had predicted) of a breech birth and the intense desire of a mother to see her first born had probably been instrumental aids in restoring her eyesight back to happy normal.
CHAPTER 27
Almost four years had passed since the disastrous airline crash on the mountaintop in the Rockies. Slater had managed to tuck the memory of Swan at the back of his brain and rarely gave her a thought.
It was late August and Slater had just sat down to have lunch with some businessmen at a popular Newport restaurant when this familiar saucy redhead walked into the Italian eatery. He felt as though he had just been polar-axed deep in the belly. Swan looked directly at him and sashayed right past as though he were some lowly peasant. He watched with narrowed eyes as she sat down and began to READ the menu. That just about sent him over the edge with fury. As unreasonable as it was, it really irritated him that she was no longer visually impaired. Slater’s befuddled emotions begun to churn out of control before he realized that Swan had never seen him although it was quite obvious that she had regained her eyesight. He suddenly realized that he had the advantage of knowing her, and not vice versa. He was not averse to using that knowledge to his advantage.
Swan’s napkin floated from her lap to the floor shortly after she sat down. Slater saw a perfect opportunity that he could not pass up. He graciously excused himself from his table on the pretense of heading for the gentleman’s room. Masking himself with masculine charm, he leaned down to pick up the fallen napkin.
“I believe you dropped this.”
Swan gave him a cool blank glance, “Thank you.”
Then, she dismissed him with the turn of her shoulder. That was it! No hint of recognition! Nothing!
For Swan, she was more upset by the handsome gentleman than she was outwardly showing. She was disturbed by the intensity of the piercing blue eyes of this stranger’s gaze that seemed to reach into her soul and beyond. He made her insides quiver and she immediately closed any more of a view of him by totally turning her back.
Still boiling with rage, Slater returned to his table. Excusing himself, he indicated that an emergency had developed and he was needed at the office.
Sitting in his Jag and trying to settle down with a smoke, Slater watched the doorway where Swan would eventually have to emerge from the restaurant. An hour later, he was reward for his patience. He followed her every move with angry eyes as she slipped those long lanky legs that he remembered so well into her silver Mercedes. He felt a bit like a stalker as he watched her pull from her parking place and steer her vehicle onto Pacific Coast Highway, but it bothered his conscience--not.
Five minutes later, Slater followed Swan as she was turning into a posh condo overlooking the Pacific. An address was all that was needed to hack into the computer and get the information that he wanted. Returning to his office, it wasn’t long before he had a complete dossier on her history. From there, he planned their reunion.
CHAPTER 28
It was really quite simple to arrange a meeting with Swan. After finding out that she had a business of interior design, Slater’s secretary called for a consultation. Within twenty-four hours, Swan came through the office door and was entering his space on his turf.
Anticipating her arrival, Slater willed his body not to react. Safeguarding his thoughts, he stood, as society would dictate when Swan emerged through his office door. Without so much as a flicker of an eyelash in recognition, he put on a poker face. Soberly, he took the hand offered to him that to his relief was denuded of any wedding ring. It was soft and well-manicured as he knew it would be.
Swan wore peek-a-boo red shoes with scarlet toenails that matched her delicate red fingertips. She was dressed in a professional navy pinstripe suit appropriate for a business interview. Under her jacket she hid her soft lush breasts with a creamy silk blouse that clung and gave only a hint of cleavage. Around her neck was a string of pearls. On the tips of each earlobe was a single drop of pearl.--Slater wondered hostilely if a lover had given them to her.---Her glorious red hair was pulled back in a severe, but chic low ponytail making her eyes look powerfully large. She was elegantly, but professionally dressed. Her demeanor let him know that she was ready to do business.
Baby blues and aqua blues met, clashed, and challenged. Her eyes dared him to let his rove again. Because he was perceptive enough to know it would annoy her and for the pure pleasure of it, his glance swept down again to her naked knees and back up to her unflinching direct stare.
Swan was no novice to the attention of men. They always seemed startled when they first met her. They all tried to subtly glance here and there, but Mr. Slater was not subtle. She was like a package that they all wanted to unwrap and see what was underneath. This man, however, looked at her as though he already knew what she looked like without her clothing. Best to cut right to the chase and get him focused on business.
Slater knew without a doubt that this was not the same helpless woman that he had encountered in the frozen tundra of the Rocky Mountains. This was a confident woman---a woman of quality and sustenance. She would be a challenge and he was totally game. He would not be the same star struck guy on the mountaintop. This time, he would make the rules. Their relationship would end only when he was ready. He did not doubt for one minute that he would have her again.
Swan had come with a portfolio of fabric swatches, paint samples, and drawings. Slater was impressed with her professional skills, but heard little of what she had to say. He was curious as to why she wasn’t still modeling. Had she stopped all together? Perhaps she had needed a diversion. She looked much healthier, happier, and perhaps a little curvier than the last time he had seen her.
Slater narrowed his eyes, irked at the thought that Swan’s glow might be due to a live-in lover. He certainly intended to find out! All he could manage to twist out of her, however, was that she had a two-year-old son that sure as hell wasn’t his! It didn’t take much math to figure out that a son of his would have been three by now!
Swan left Mr. Slater’s office thinking what a dreadful interview that had been. She felt that she had been grilled right down to her crimson toenails. She wasn’t about to give Mr. Slater any more insight into her personal life than he needed, but he did need to know that she had a son that went to preschool. She would not be working on Tuesday and Thursday when he was home. When he had asked how old her son was, she had given him the honest answer of two. She didn’t feel that it was any of his business that Quinn would be three in the next six weeks. So, she was surprised when the phone rang the next morning and that Mr. Slater wanted her to begin decorating this week. The next day she began.
Swan tried to avoid Mr. Slater whenever possible, which was rarely. She had been decorating for over two weeks. He always seemed to manage to be in the way giving his opinion at every opportunity. He was the client and it was his money, but somehow, i
t seemed more than just wanting to be involved with the decisions.
Today, Swan was up on a ladder hanging a picture when Slater walked into the room. Her ass was at eye level. It gave himself a moment to enjoy her sculptured behind and remember how the two cheeks had felt in each hand. He was itching to test them again.
“Move slowly,” he reminded himself, “she spooks easily and it would be just like her to remove herself in a dash from his tentative presence and cancel their contract.”
Slater leaned against the door jam with one hand in his pant pocket and enjoyed the menu before him. When Swan noticed him, she began a shaky careful decent down the ladder. He took two giant steps to hold it steady and to get a scent of her perfume that had been driving him crazy for days. He could only imagine her dabbing it behind her ears, over her breasts, and between her thighs. As he was about to flash his dimpled grin, Bear chose that unfortunate moment to stick his head in the partially opened office door.
“Hey, Ace---Well, look here. You two finally found each other.”
The two people glanced across the room at Bear before swiveling back to each other. Eyes locked. Swan’s face had turned a pasty white. No denial from Mr. Slater was forthcoming. Suddenly, the “splat” of a hand across Slater’s cheek resonated against all four walls before it floated out the open door on the balcony breeze. He knew he deserved the slap or there would have been no way in hell that she would have gotten away with that whack!
“You bastard!”
“Un oh,” Bear muttered as he removed himself from the pandemonium that he had innocently created and quietly slipped unnoticed out the door, which he had come.
The drama unfolding in the small office space was rapidly growing out of control. Slater never liked out of control situations. He yanked Swan against his chest, which he had been itching to do ever since she had walked into the Newport restaurant. Now, he was delighted to have a good excuse to do so. With arms and legs kicking and scratching, Slater quickly pinned Swan on the floor of the office Persian rug, threw one leg over hers, and held her two arms above her head. When the fury of a scorned woman seemed to have subsided and only the heavy breathing of spent anger could be heard, Slater raised his head. Two tears were trickling down from the corner of each of Swan’s spiky eyelashes.
“Oh, hell!” In one fluid scoop, he picked Swan up and sat her on his lap on the office couch. She was limp like a rag doll. He liked the other Swan better. He understood anger, even hatred, but this quiet, not talking, not reacting woman, was beyond his comprehension. Never one to lose a battle, he began talking to her in soothing tones and rubbing her arms up and down. “It’s all right, Babe,” he cooed.
Something must have clicked as suddenly Swan leaped off Slater’s lap in a flash and sprung for the door. He reacted just as quickly and slammed his body against the heavy frame, locking the door as he did so.
Swan started backing up and pointing a finger at him, “You stay away from me!”
Slater had lost all reasoning by that time and his brain was no longer on top of his head. Her cute little butt wiggling on his lap had reminded him of how much he wanted her again and he was not about to let this opportunity slip through his fingers.
As Swan continued to retreat, Slater began stocking her with giant steps. When Swan’s buttock hit the wall behind her, she began scooting sideways toward the balcony. There was no way that Slater was going to let her get anywhere near the four story open space in her frame of mind. He heaved his body against her delicate frame with just enough pressure to detain her. As he asserted himself closer, she began to realize what a sexual state he was in and she would have none of him. She shoved and pushed, but it was like a gnat trying to move a boulder. She finally slumped against his shoulder in exhaustion. He gathered her in his arms once more and lay down with her on the large couch. He began to nuzzle her neck until he felt a slight response.
This time Swan stiff-armed his shoulder to create a space, pinned him with her flashing aqua blue eyes, and asked the unanswered question that stood between them,
“Why?”
Slater weighed his answer as he sensed that the words he used might be the most important words of his life if he wanted any kind of relationship with this woman. He decided to shoot straight and give her an honest answer; “I was angry and hurt when you walked out of my life. You never bothered to contact me. You left me high and dry….” He put the ball back in her court, “I might ask you the same question, why?!!”
She silently nodded as though she understood. Her only answer was, “It’s getting late and I need to go,” which wasn’t an answer at all.
Slater slowly sat up and ran his fingers through his coal black hair in agitation. Swan sat up as well and hooked her toe in the right leopard shoe that had fallen off in their struggle. She then stood. He watched her trembling fingers tuck in her light tan colored designer blouse and adjust her brown tweed skirt whose zipper had moved from her side to the front. The slit in her skirt had moved to the middle as well, giving him a glimpse of the inside milky thighs that he would not get between for a while longer. It was a depressing thought.
Swan touched her earlobes. She was missing one of her gold hoops. Misty eyed and in a quivery voice she said, “I can’t find my other earring.”
Slater, only too grateful to divert his attention to playing the game “Find the Earring” began searching in earnest. He finally found it under the couch where it must have fallen during their scuffle. He watched as she slightly tilted her head and treaded it through her pierced ear. It seemed like a very personal thing as though she were just putting on her finishing touch of dressing after their lovemaking.
Gruffly, Slater said, “I’ll walk you to your car.” That was not a question, it was a statement.
Slater took Swan’s arm and proceeded to guide her to the elevator past the wide eyed receptionist that was more than a little curious about the commotion that had been coming from Mr. Slater’s office. They stood in pregnant silence as the box that enclosed them plunged to the first floor and they stepped out the door. No words were spoken as they walked the short distance to her luxury Mercedes. As he helped her into the driver’s side, she looked up with hollow sober eyes and said, “We need to talk.”
Slater only indicated he agreed with a sharp nod as he thought, “You’ve got that right!” As she pulled out of the parking lot, he made a mental note of her license tag number---just in case she decided to pull a Houdini.
CHAPTER 29
The next day was Saturday. It was the middle of the morning when Swan’s phone rang. When she looked at the caller ID and saw that it was Slater, she was a little perturbed as she wasn’t sure that she was ready to spill her story. So, when she answered the phone, she answered with an annoyed tone, “How did you get this number? It’s unlisted!”
Not a good omen, thought Slater. “Does it matter?” he snapped with the same nasty tone.
As silence followed their verbal encounter, Slater finally gave an inch and said that he had gotten it off the application that she had filled out with references. It was not a exactly a great beginning. The whole conversation had the makings of going downhill really rapidly.
“Look,” Slater said as he swiped his forehead in frustration, “how ‘bout I pick you up for coffee at Starbucks?” The pause that followed more than aggravated him. He was used to his women enthusiastically greeting any invitation he chose to toss out at them before he could hardly complete a sentence. But then again, Swan was the exception from the very beginning.
Swan on the other hand was rubbing her temples trying to figure out a way to avoid the inevitable meeting of father and son. She signed, “I’ll meet you at the Newport Starbucks on Coast Highway in thirty minutes.”
Slater looked at his watch, “I’ll be waiting.”
Slater had been tapping an agitated foot for fifteen minutes. Swan was late. “She had better show,” he muttered to himself, “or he was going to her apartment and drag her down t
o the coffee shop caveman style if that is what it took to gain her attention.”
By the time Swan appeared, Slater was in a full-blown grumpy mood. So, he said the first thing that came to his mind, which was, “You’re late!”
To which Swan snapped, “I don’t like your shirt!”(It was flowered Hawaiian)--- and the war began.
As they stared daggers at each other, Swan wanted to scream, “I was late, because YOUR son was having a meltdown!”
The waiter interrupted their private battle of private thoughts. The atmosphere had turned rather frosty and even a warm cup of coffee was having little effect on the two individuals that had both felt betrayed by the other. It was a very strained silence as they each struggled to compose themselves. Neither was ready to discuss or expose the wounds they carried.
Slater broke the tense silence first, “I saw you on the cover of some magazine down at the news stand a few months back.” He wasn’t about to tell her that he knew exactly which magazine and that he had searched the stand weekly for any additional ones.
Curious, she asked, “Which lay out?”
“The one at the beach with some guy ---you looked like you were having a good time.”
Slater sounded a little annoyed. That amused Swan as she remembered the photo shot as being a gruelingly hot day. The sand was burning the soles of her feet and kept blowing in her face. The gay guy model was clumsy and on top of that had bad breath. He stepped on her toes several times. She was beginning to wonder if he were doing it deliberately. The photographer was a real “prick” and demanded several pictures over and over. It had not been a real pleasant shoot, but she was paid the big bucks to make it appear so. Apparently, the photo was convincing. She had forgotten that the beach photo had made the cover of Indigo Elite as she was blind at the time the magazine hit the news stand. To Slater, her small grin was a smug one. It was best he change the subject to something more generic before he gave his feelings away and went for her jugular.
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