by Karen Booth
He looked over his shoulder, lowering his face closer to hers. A waft of his heavenly scent hit her nose—warm and masculine, like the sheets on his bed, just like his entire bedroom. “Now who’s the sweet one?” he muttered.
You are. When you want to be. “I’m sensing you could use a drink.”
“It’s only a little past four.”
“It’s five o’clock in Nova Scotia. I’ve heard it’s lovely there this time of year. Bourbon?”
“On the rocks.” He cracked a smile and his shoulders visibly relaxed. She fought the urge to dig her fingers into them, help him unwind while she committed the contours of his broad frame to memory.
“Cocktail, Evelyn?” Sarah asked.
She shook her head and started peekaboo with Oliver. “I’m too in love with my grandson for a drink. But I’ll take a diet soda.”
“Got it.” Sarah went to work, getting Aiden his drink first. He was in greater need. “Here you go.” Their fingers brushed when she gave him his glass, sending a tingly recognition through her.
“Thank you. For everything.” His voice was low and soft, just as luxurious as the bourbon in the glass. Why did the man she was supposed to stay away from have to be so undeniably sexy?
The elevator rang again.
“That’s odd,” Aiden said. “I don’t know who could be here.”
“I’ll get it.” Sarah hurried to the entryway and buzzed the intercom. “Hello?”
“It’s Liam Hanson for Mr. Langford. I’m one of the admins at Barkforth and Sloan.”
The paternity test. “I thought you were coming tomorrow morning.” Surely this was not the sort of commotion Aiden wanted while his mother was there.
“They asked me to come this afternoon since you need this done right away. They should’ve called you.”
“Come on up.”
Aiden joined her. “Great. With my mom here.” He must have overheard. He raked his hand through his hair, again showing her the strain she hated seeing on any face, especially on one as handsome as his.
The elevator doors slid open. “Mr. Langford. I’m so sorry if there was a miscommunication. I promise this will be quick. Five minutes and I’m out of your hair.”
Aiden nodded. “No, it’s fine. We have to get it done. What do you need?”
“It’s a cheek swab from you and one from the baby. That’s it.”
“He’s in the other room.”
Sarah followed Liam and Aiden into the library.
“Mom, I need Oliver for a minute. The lawyer’s office needs to do the cheek swabs for the paternity test so we can take care of the legal end of things.”
Evelyn picked up the baby, handing him to Aiden. “This seems silly. One look at him and it’s obvious he’s your son.”
Aiden snatched Oliver away, much as he had the day Sarah had mentioned the idea of Evelyn caring for him. “It’s important for Oliver and me, too. That we know he’s my son, for sure.”
She took a sip of her soda. “Of course.”
Liam took out two plastic tubes and asked Aiden to open his mouth. He swabbed the inside of his cheek, then did the same to Oliver. “All done. We’ll have this expedited. I understand the paperwork needs to be taken care of this week.”
Aiden nodded. “Yes.”
“If it takes until next week, I could always come back down from Boston, I suppose.” Had she just said that? She should not be straying from the timeline she’d established. With every passing day, they were more comfortable with each other, she more attracted to him, her resolve becoming flimsy. There were signs he might be feeling the same way—the moment when he’d slid his fingers under her chin? The comments about how good she looked?
“It’s best if we wrap this up quickly,” Aiden said. “Sarah needs to leave on Sunday and return to her business. Oliver and I need to start our life together, too.”
Why was her body filled with such utter disappointment at his words? This was what she’d wanted, and it was no time to switch her priorities. Stay with the plan, Sarah. “Aiden’s right. I really can’t be running back to New York.”
“Certainly.” Liam packed up everything in a messenger bag, which he slung across his chest. “We’ll take care of it, Mr. Langford. We should have the results by Friday.”
Aiden walked Liam to the elevator and returned with Oliver. There was a shift in the mood, one impossible to ignore. Aiden had said he wanted to keep things short with his mother for this first visit. Evelyn showed no sign of leaving.
“Can I hold him again?” she asked, getting up from the sofa.
Aiden took in a deep breath. “For a few minutes, then Sarah and I have some things to do. Oliver needs a bath and quiet time before bed.”
Even if it might have been an excuse, Aiden was clinging to the schedule, and it was adorable. He sat on the couch next to his mother and tried to hand over the baby, but Oliver wanted to stay with Daddy.
“Don’t you want to spend time with Grandma?” Evelyn leaned into Aiden, trying to catch Oliver’s attention.
“He’s still getting used to you, Mom. It might take time.”
“Maybe he’s unhappy after having that strange man put a stick in his mouth. The whole thing really is silly. He looks just like you.”
“We have to follow the proper channels. It’s important.” Aiden held Oliver close. “He lost his mother a month ago, and that will be something he’ll always wonder about. A child needs to know where he came from. He needs to know where he belongs.” Aiden’s voice cracked, which Sarah had never heard before, not even in the tender moments with Oliver.
“I wasn’t trying to upset you.”
Aiden cleared his throat. “Mom. Listen to yourself. There’s this dark cloud hanging over us and Oliver has given us the perfect chance to talk about it, but you won’t let yourself go there, will you? You’d rather keep your secret.”
“I have no earthly idea what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do. I’ve brought this up with you at least three times since I’ve been back in New York. It’s the reason I’ve been unhappy for most of my life. It’s the reason I tried to take over LangTel. And you’re sitting here, talking about the paternity of my son like this hasn’t been a question in your own life. It’s so frustrating I want to scream.” His voice didn’t waver in the slightest now. It was sheer determination.
Oliver whimpered.
“You’ve upset the baby,” she said.
Oh no.
Aiden pulled Oliver closer and rubbed his back, pecking him on the forehead. “I think you need to leave. I’m not going to pretend that my entire existence in this family hasn’t been built on a lie and you won’t own up to it. I know that your husband was not my father. I know it with every fiber of my being. And we all act as if that isn’t the case.”
Sarah gasped. She didn’t mean to, but how could she not? Roger Langford wasn’t Aiden’s father? How could that be?
Evelyn reached out and set her hand on Aiden’s forearm. “Aiden, darling. Haven’t we all been through enough with losing your father? Don’t tear us apart even more. I love you and you’re my son. That’s all that matters.”
Sarah turned to sneak upstairs. She had no business being in the room for this.
“No, Sarah. Don’t leave,” Aiden said.
Did the man have eyes in the back of his head? Sarah looked down at her feet. Damn noisy shoes.
“So that’s your response,” he said to his mother. “And when you say we lost my father, do you mean my actual father, or Roger? Because I know they’re not the same. There’s no other explanation for you sending me off to boarding school. There’s no other reason why Adam would be deemed heir apparent when I’m the oldest.”
“Aiden, there’s no good in dredging up the past. And I really d
on’t think we should discuss this in front of a stranger.”
“A stranger? You’re calling Sarah a stranger? She’s nothing of the sort.” Aiden bolted from his seat. “It’s time for you to go now. You can come back when you’re ready to talk. Until then, I don’t want to see you.”
“You’re going to keep me from my grandson?”
“That’s all on you. I have nothing to do with it.”
Evelyn blew out a breath, just as determined as Aiden. Family gatherings must be a real barrel of laughs with the Langfords. “You’ll change your mind. A baby needs his grandmother.” She leaned forward and kissed Oliver’s forehead, but Aiden kept both arms firmly around him. “Bye-bye, sweet boy. Grandma will see you soon.”
With that, Evelyn Langford traipsed out of the room. Aiden stood, facing the entryway, his back to Sarah. All Sarah could hear was her own pulse thumping in her ears. What she was supposed to say? What was she supposed to do? There was no mistaking the pain in his voice. True or not, he believed that he’d been lied to about his father.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said. “I’m sure that’s the last thing you would’ve wanted to trade your run for.”
She went to him, her heart heavy. “No, Aiden. I’m glad I was here. I mean, if that’s what you wanted.”
“It is what I wanted. Honestly, your presence probably prevented a bigger blowup. One that’s been coming for thirty years.”
She reached for his arm, wanting to comfort him even more than that. Here she was, stepping into emotional quicksand, the very last place she belonged if she was going to leave on Sunday with her heart in one piece. “I don’t believe that you would’ve blown up in front of Oliver. I really don’t.”
Aiden managed a smile, but it was as if it had been broken and cobbled back together. There was some part of him inside that was fractured. She’d sensed that about him the day they met, but now she was beginning to understand what had caused it. Her own family was so important to her. They were always there for her. Always. She couldn’t imagine growing up the way Aiden had. He might have had money and privilege, but that didn’t replace love. That didn’t replace knowing where you came from.
“Thank you for being here. That’s really all I can say.” He tugged her into an embrace with one arm while he held on to Oliver with the other.
She sank against his chest, so drawn to him, every inch of her wanting to make things better. Each second in his arms was another step into his world, but she would’ve needed a heart of stone to walk away. He needed her. And in that moment, him needing her was everything.
* * *
Oliver was sound asleep in his crib, but Aiden stayed, studying the steady rise and fall of his chest as he slept like a starfish—arms above his head, legs splayed, tiny rosebud mouth open. After the upset of his mother’s visit, Oliver filled Aiden with contentment he’d never known. If he never had anything more in his life than Oliver, even if he never got the truth from his mother, he could be happy.
He flipped the baby monitor on, then crept out of the room, quietly closing the door. A few steps down the hall, a heavenly smell hit his nose. Sarah was cooking dinner and judging by that one whiff, it was going to be delicious. She was his savior today, but not because she was preparing a meal. She’d been there for him when his composure crumbled and anger threatened to consume him. She’d been his rock.
That left him in a peculiar spot. If he were smart, he needed to work very hard to keep Sarah as a friend, and as part of Oliver’s life. He couldn’t imagine her not being involved, even if it was only an occasional phone call or a visit on Oliver’s birthday. Considering his zero percent success rate with keeping a woman around for more than a few days, logic said he shouldn’t allow them to be anything more than friends. He shouldn’t cross that line, however attracted he was to her, even when every inch of him wanted her. Between her beauty, her spark and the sweet things she did for him, he didn’t see how he was supposed to stay away. He only knew he had to. Giving in to the temptation of Sarah—sweeping her up in his arms and finally tasting her lips, would likely end with her never speaking to him again. For the first time in his life, he didn’t want that.
“Whatever you’re cooking, sign me up.” He strolled into the kitchen.
She had two glasses of red wine waiting. Was she the perfect woman? She was reading his mind. He wanted nothing more than to relax and put his afternoon behind him.
“Good. Because otherwise, it’s toast or a protein bar.” Her back was to him, and she was humming—something he’d noticed she did every time she was busy in the kitchen. He forced himself still, to keep from walking up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, leaning down and kissing the graceful slope of her neck. He wanted to bury his face in her hair, inhale her sweet scent, get lost in her.
But he had to be good. So he slugged back some wine. “What are we having?”
She turned and smiled sweetly. “Pasta. Almost ready.”
“Perfect. Thanks for opening a bottle of wine. If you hadn’t, I would have.” What was he doing? He’d been reprimanding himself moments ago about how Sarah had to stay a friend, and yet he couldn’t stop from talking as if he was in pursuit.
She dished the pasta into two bowls. “Sorry it’s not fancy.”
“If you want fancy, we could take this bottle of wine up to the rooftop when we’re done eating. It’s a beautiful night.” Was this a good idea? No. Did it sound like fun? Yes. “We’ll need to bring the baby monitor.”
“Okay, Dad.” She elbowed him in the ribs and flashed a flirtatious smile. That was it. She was going to kill him before the night was over.
They ate at the kitchen island, chatting about Oliver, squabbling about nanny candidates and whether or not there would be any more people to interview. It wasn’t long before dinner was done, the dishes were in the dishwasher and Sarah suggested they open a second bottle of wine.
“The terrace?” Stop encouraging this.
“I should grab a cardigan first. In case I get cold.”
I can keep you warm. He pressed his lips together to keep the words from escaping. “Okay.”
He waited for Sarah outside her room, then led her to the second-floor stairs at the back of the house that took them up to the empty third floor and finally up to the terrace.
The darkening night sky was streaked with purple and midnight blue, the city lights casting a glow across Sarah’s face. She rushed across the stone pavers, like a little kid who couldn’t contain her excitement. “It’s so beautiful up here. Like your own private park.” Holding out her arms, she turned enough to make her dress swirl around her legs.
“It’s nice, isn’t it?” He smiled, admired her, wishing he could make everything in the world conform to his will—why couldn’t he have a free pass for a night, kiss her and have everything return to normal tomorrow?
“After meeting your mom, I think I understand why you need space.”
“Very perceptive. Although the physical space is nice for anyone, especially in the city.”
He led her to an outdoor sectional couch and lit a kerosene heater. She plopped down, tucking her leg underneath herself. He set the wine bottle on a low table and joined her, keeping his distance, staying in check.
“Do you want to talk about today?” she asked. “Maybe you’ll feel better about everything if you just get it out.”
He wasn’t much of a talker, especially when it came to things like this, but Sarah wasn’t like anyone he’d ever considered confiding in. She had no agenda, nothing to gain. And she had to be wondering what was going on. “I’ve suspected since I was eight that the man I called Dad wasn’t my biological father.”
Sarah pressed her lips into a thin line. “That’s what I thought. I didn’t want to eavesdrop on what you were saying to your mom, but it was hard not to hear.”
/>
“I’m glad you were there. It made it far less uncomfortable.”
“It seemed pretty uncomfortable.”
He had to laugh. She didn’t shy away from the truth. “Honestly, that was nothing.”
“How does an eight-year-old arrive at that conclusion?”
“I was home from boarding school for Christmas break and I overheard them arguing about it.”
“Did you ever ask them about it?”
He took a sip of his wine, fighting back memories of standing in the hall of the Langford family penthouse apartment, late at night. He’d been unable to sleep and wanted to ask his mom for a warm glass of milk, but he’d instead heard her say something terrible. If I could take it back, I would. But I can’t change the fact that he’s not your child. “I never said anything to anyone until I was much older. You have to understand, Roger Langford was an imposing man. And he was never very warm to me. He was to Adam and Anna, but not to me. I didn’t want to give him another reason to push me out of the family.”
“Push you out?”
“They sent me to boarding school after Adam was born. I was seven. I didn’t understand why, but they said it was for my own good. Now I suspect it was because he couldn’t stand the sight of me.”
Sarah’s eyes became impossibly sad. He hated seeing that look on her face, even when it was his pain she was reflecting. She grasped his forearm, scooting closer on the couch. The distance he’d left was gone, and he was so glad. He craved having her close. He wanted nothing more than to erase the space between them.
“I can’t even imagine what that must’ve been like. I’m sure you were just the sweetest boy. I’m so sorry.”
Aiden wasn’t much for pity, but it was healing to have Sarah see how wrong it all was. “It got worse over the years. I got in trouble at school a lot, mostly for fighting or practical jokes. I got kicked out of a few. That was never fun. It embarrassed my dad and confirmed to him that I didn’t belong at home. I guess I was self-destructive, but I was confused. I certainly didn’t feel loved.”
Sarah was now rubbing his arm softly with her thumb. “Of course you didn’t. No child should feel that way.” She looked down at her lap and fiddled with the hem of her sweater. She was so gorgeous in the moonlight—it was like watching a museum masterpiece come to life. “I know that my arrival with Oliver was a shock, but you have such a big opportunity with him.”