Irish Billionaire's Unwanted Black Baby (BWWM Romance)

by Ciara Cole

  ***

  Rachael’s head lay on Sean’s warm chest. She opened her eyes and looked at the window, the gray light filling the room. There’d be no sunshine today, she thought.

  But then she corrected herself, realizing that the warmth wrapped around her right then was all the sunshine she’d ever need. She knew she shouldn’t think such thoughts, because she’d soon be gone from his life. Now they’d passed the point of no return, and she wished she could make this permanent. But it was impossible.

  Rachael felt Sean stir, and she instantly froze, even when he began to stroke the soft skin of her back.

  “Don’t play with me. I know you aren’t asleep,” Sean said. “I can practically hear you thinking out loud.”

  She leaned forward and kissed his lips. “How did I give myself away?”

  “You changed your breathing.”

  Rachael realized they’d slept through the whole night up till morning. “What time is it? I told my dad we’ll be around by mid-afternoon.”

  “It’s barely nine. Enough time for some breakfast and a nap.”

  “Before or after?” she asked with a teasing glance at his solid erection. He seemed even bigger and harder than she remembered from earlier. “You don’t plan on killing me with that thing, do you?”

  Sean chuckled and then wrestled her beneath him, pinning her down effortlessly. “I love how you aren’t shy about your sensuality with me. You’re stunning.”

  Before she could think of struggling within his entrapment, he let her go and turned over to reach for a drawer in the bedside chest.

  “And I know just the thing to complement you,” Sean said.

  He handed her a slim, solid wooden box. Without a word, she opened it and gasped when she saw the beautiful pendant and necklace. She loved the silver pendant’s subtle, hammered finish, its classic design depicting an ancient looking script.

  Rachael recognized it as written in Ogham, a particular kind of writing from the fourth century Irish that could be seen etched onto stone pillars, metals and such still found all over the country. She’d come across a few during her sightseeing trips with Sean and especially in the museums.

  “The craftsmanship is beautiful. What does it say?” she almost whispered.

  “Mo mhuirnín dílis.”

  “Mu voor-neen deelish?” Rachael echoed as accurately as she could. Hearing Sean speak Gaelic always made her stomach clench with delight.

  “It means ‘my own true love.’”

  Rachael smiled shyly. “Will you help me try it on?”

  He moved behind her and did the clasp. The chain length was just right and looked beautiful against her skin.

  “Gorgeous,” he said and kissed on her neck.

  Rachael felt heat stir deep into the center of her womanliness. Sean did that to her, made her feel more like a real woman than she’d ever been. She turned her head sideways to meet his lips over her shoulder. Then he groaned as if in self-reproach.

  “I forgot the condom,” he whispered against her mouth.

  Rachael went still for a moment and then shook her head. “I’m on birth control. Female stuff…” she trailed off, her fingers too busy clawing and curling into his gloriously mussed auburn hair.

  Rachael truly believed they had nothing to worry about. But maybe they both were too careless, too caught up.

  Nothing seemed able to worry them in those moments anyway. Even though Rachael knew she’d soon have to move on without Sean, she felt like she could face it, if only to give him the clear-cut ending that would favor him best. She couldn’t dream of tying him down with a long-distance relationship when she returned to America with her family. In time, maybe he could forgive her. She only hoped he would never forget her, because she knew to the utmost that she’d never, ever forget him, the great, true love of her life.

  Chapter Four

  But forget her, he had.

  Rachael sighed deeply and blinked hard to shake off the hurtful memories. How foolish she’d been to leave Dublin thinking she could cope with the consequences. In the end, she was the one left to face the hardship and heartache alone.

  The door to her office sprung open, and her boss, who was the head curator of the museum where she worked, strode in briskly.

  Rachael shot him a wide-eyed look at the intrusion.

  “You startled me,” she gasped.

  “Sorry. Your office door wasn’t locked, and I did knock several times.”

  “I guess I was just out of it.” Rachael nervously began to gather up her things, angry with herself for not getting her work finished after all. Her and her stupid absentmindedness.

  “It’s seven-thirty, so you must be tired, not to mention hungry,” her boss, Allen Wilder, began mildly.

  Rachael hesitated in her actions, something in Allen’s voice giving her warning signals. Signals she’d been picking up for weeks but had been praying she was imagining things.

  “I must be,” she said as she felt her stomach rumble much to her embarrassment.

  “Then let me buy you dinner. I was meant to meet a friend at this posh restaurant in town, but he cancelled on me. I’d really love the company.”

  Rachael wasn’t sure she should accept Allen’s offer. He had lately been looking at her in a way that wasn’t the same friendly manner she was used to. Should she start to get worried?

  Rachael had met loads of museum people in her time, and Allen had always seemed more businessman than historian. He didn’t look like your typical curator. He’d have fit in perfectly as a financial lawyer, his broad shoulders, dark wavy hair and perfect features looking straight from a 1920’s black and white film.

  Despite her trying to get out of the dinner, Allen was much too insistent. Rachael had no choice but to go, more so since Allen made it out like she was the one doing him a favor, making up for the friend who’d missed the appointed dinner meeting. Besides, her stomach was beginning to growl up a storm.

  Minutes later, they were inside Allen’s swanky car. It had an expensive feel just like its owner. He had sharp, green eyes, and a perpetual, peppery stubble and his hair slicked back. He always dressed well, usually in mossy shades that went with his eyes. It was too bad she wasn’t attracted to older, white men. Allen was brilliant and hot, but he was still her boss.

  As he drove, Allen spoke about the restaurant, a small, trendy new place, as he called it. Knowing Allen, Rachael guessed it would be one of the types that cost a fortune, and you’d have to wait forever to get a table. She only hoped her attire, a maroon-colored dress and leather jacket with black sneakers, would fit the setting.

  Soon they pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot, and Allen jumped out and walked around to open her door. Rachael thought it very cool and decided to enjoy the gentlemanly treatment. Guys her age didn’t really go for that. She smiled and took his arm, and they went in and were soon shown to their table.

  “It’s as high end as I expected,” she said, looking around with interest. The pristine white tablecloths, elegant dinnerware and muted gold lighting achieved the right balance of the final enchanting ambience. There was a huge bar made of zinc and rock music playing in the background to add more to the hipster cool atmosphere.

  “Yes, it’s quite savvy—and certainly a perfect choice for dining with an elegant woman.”

  Rachael smiled and side-stepped the smooth compliment. “I’m famished.”

  “I can guarantee you’ll love the burgers here. Let’s see… I would recommend the fiery combo with lots of jalapeno and Tabasco. Unless you’d rather go the classic route with your toppings and stick with maybe cheese, bacon, lettuce and tomato?” Allen teased.

  “The menu selection sounds so good I can’t decide. I just might go for the pesto or Korean-style burger,” Rachael replied.

  “Good choices.”

  Rachael’s smile widened as Allen seemed intent to pull her out of her shell. She wasn’t a sophisticate, but she was comfortable in her own skin and could handle m
ost social situations. Though she was in awe of her boss, she had no romantic feelings for him.

  Despite seeming like a sleepy environment, a museum was often a high pressure job, and for the past year since she’d started working for Allen, she’d noted that he had the same passion for art and history as she had.

  But that was the most they had in common, and Rachael couldn’t put much stock in an emotional involvement between them. As such, tonight simply felt like sharing a nice dinner with a superior, and she meant to keep things that way.

  Finally, they made their orders, and in record time, their food was served. Rachael took one look at her burger and was impressed. It was truly gourmet style, each aspect artfully constructed and emitting wonderful scents that told you only the finest, freshest ingredients were used.

  The great thing about the burgers placed before them was the absence of any unnecessary duding up. Just mounds of big, beefy goodness on the most buttery brioche buns, to go with the awesome looking fries.

  Dinner was a more relaxed affair than Rachael had expected, and she became more and more at ease with Allen. Their discussions were mostly work related and touched on some recent fundraising they were organizing, as well as some new exhibits they were expecting. They talked very little about their personal lives.

  “Now I know why this burger establishment gets such raves,” Allen commented on another hearty bite of his delicious-looking burger, which was a signature dish on the menu.

  “The line outside the door gave an indication that it’s definitely a hot spot. I’m not a burger person, but the whole mix of traditional and contemporary has me blown away,” she said honestly. “At first, I thought the menu much too pricey, but now, considering the classy surroundings and service, and the effort that went into making the food, it seems like a bargain.”

  “I’m glad. I was hoping to impress you.”

  Their eyes held, and Rachael had a sinking feeling. It was the same sensation whenever she had to brace herself to turn away the advances of a charming admirer. Maybe she kept comparing them to an impossible ideal. After Sean, was it really so hard to find someone she could consider worth taking a chance with? Gosh, it had been seven years. She really needed to let things go for real.

  Just then, Allen broke the moment and suggested they should refill their bourbons. He called the attention of the waiter who then took their order to the bar. Feeling awkward, Rachael pushed around her fries before averting her gaze to look around the restaurant. The next moment, her life took a turn she’d never expected or even dreamed.

  Rachael’s heartbeat picked up an erratic, dangerously fast tempo. Oh...my…God.

  There he was. Just the most eye-catching, arrogant, and irresistible low life human on this earth. She couldn’t stand Sean O’Hare no matter how sexy he looked. No matter how much she wanted to run her fingers through his auburn hair or look into his deep blue eyes or hear him say her name over and—wait.

  Sean O’Hare? Why was he here? What, how?

  None of this made sense. Was she lost in her daydreams again? Rachael turned her back quickly, hoping he hadn’t sighted her. If she pretended he wasn’t there, maybe the vision would disappear for good.

  Alas, fate didn’t make her so lucky. Just moments after she’d seen him, Sean O’Hare appeared at their table, and Rachael couldn’t move or even think.

  In his hand was a bottle of bourbon with which he topped both their tumblers. Rachael’s addled brain barely managed to make sense of his courteous words, while he introduced himself as the owner and chef of the restaurant.

  “It’s an honor to meet you!” Allen said with pleasure. Rachael had never seen him so star struck. He proceeded to give his compliments, saying they enjoyed their food very much. Rachael was simply speechless, half wishing the floor would somehow open and swallow her.

  “And it’s my privilege to ensure my customers relish their food experience from the first bite to the last. Well, I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening, and thank you for choosing Whiskey Road to dine at,” Sean said lightly, yet the way the words flowed made her panties soak.

  That voice. It was deeper, yet as rich and thick as she remembered, just like chocolate or the finest wine. His Irish accent still felt like it crawled over her and caressed her nerve endings.

  He looked like something straight out of a GQ magazine with his smoothly shaven face and hair raked in a sexy muss. That open-necked white shirt with a hint of a thin gold necklace was slowly killing Rachael. She visibly swallowed, and a slight smirk tilted Sean’s unforgettably sensual lips. They stared at each other for a split second or less. Sean narrowed his eyes at her, and Rachael knew he recognized her. How could he not?

  Even as she feared he was about to acknowledge her and make the situation more mortifying, he suddenly turned and left.

  Rachael viewed him from the side of her eye as he made his way to the kitchen amidst greeting a few customers on the way, getting smiles and praise.

  Rachael’s nails were pressing into the palms she had fisted on her knees beneath the table. She managed a thin smile to Allen, who had a look of disbelief flashing across his face. “That was Sean O’Hare—the Sean O’Hare. How awesome is that? I knew he owned the restaurant, but I never imagined meeting him in person.”

  Thankfully, Allen hadn’t noticed anything odd with Rachael, as he had become so engrossed in the fact that the chef and owner had personally attended to them.

  “You didn’t tell me you knew about the owner of this place or that he’s famous,” Rachael let out at last.

  “I must have forgotten. You just didn’t strike me as much of a foodie, or else you’d have heard of him yourself. This place always gets great reviews as the best spot to have world-class burgers in the city.”

  “I guess I’m out of touch,” Rachael croaked.

  She sat in shock as Allen proceeded to fill her in on Sean’s success story… About him being born in Ireland and forgoing college so he and his best friend, Connor Hanley, could hold down their mechanic/pub/construction business.

  “At twenty-three, they quit to start a burger van in a lively street market in Dublin. Within months, their brand and burger concoctions were a hit and eventually went global,” Allen said. “Sean chose to not stop at burgers, though, and pursued his BA in Culinary Arts from Dublin Institute of Technology.”

  Allen went on about how Sean O’Hare had taken his brand more high profile once he cut off on his own. He traveled through Europe before settling in America to open three highly successful, always booked out, “posh” restaurants in New York, L.A. and San Francisco.

  “The revenue he gets from his cut of the burger chain profits, his restaurants and all his financial investments makes him worth a hefty billion dollars,” Allen added with deep admiration

  Sean was a billionaire? It was hard for Rachael to take in all at once. “That’s, um, impressive, to say the least. It’s amazing how much information you keep at your fingertips about him.”

  Allen chuckled without embarrassment. “I can be worse than a fan girl when it comes to my favorite chefs. I’d go as far as to say I’m an amateur one myself—even though I honestly wouldn’t inflict my cooking on anyone.”

  Rachael laughed weakly at the joke. “I was wondering—can we leave? Please?” she blurted.

  Allen looked surprised. “What, now? Aren’t you enjoying yourself? I was hoping you saved some room for dessert.”

  “I’m sure it would be great,” Rachael said, sure she’d faint if she took another bite. She was so highly strung. “But I’m more than full.”

  Thankfully, Allen didn’t press the issue and settled the tab, plus a generous tip. Rachael let out a deep, relieved sigh as she finally walked with Allen to the exit. She could swear she felt eyes burning holes in her back, but didn’t ever make the mistake to turn around.

  ***

  Sean knew he shouldn’t have done what he did.

  For years, he’d set a standard of self-command that mad
e him stand out in his field as well as in his personal life. Much as he had earned the reputation of a Casanova from being linked with the hottest women in the world, he’d never been touched by scandal. Never lost his cool, certainly not in public, and he didn’t throw histrionics as most of his peers did simply for effect.

  And yet just now, he’d almost let his emotions get the best of him. Tonight, it was a full house, and the kitchen was overwhelmed and yet had been holding strong. His manager, Moira, was handling the organized chaos from behind the scenes. Sean had headed out just minutes earlier to the front of house. In almost a psychic instant, Sean’s eyes had caught sight of Rachael, seated dining with her companion who looked at least forty.

  One look and Sean instantly recognized his old sweetheart, Rachael Arnolds.

  Their time together right up to their very last trip to the woodland B&B came rushing back to Sean’s head and almost drowned out the sounds of the lively restaurant. When the table’s drinks order got delivered to the bar, Sean didn’t think twice. He told the bartender he’d personally take the bottle of bourbon over.

  He’d watched as emotions played on Rachael’s face when their eyes met almost the moment he decided to make his way over. By the time she looked away in what he knew was recognition and shock, Sean had made up his mind.

  Their tense, sexually-driven internal exchange at her table had been detectable by them alone, thankfully. Now as he viewed her from the kitchen, he saw that she looked like someone had just ripped the rug out from right under her. Much the same way he felt, with emotions running riot in his head.

  Both heads. His loins twitched at the thought of all those hours he’d screwed the innocence out of her and made her his woman. She’d been angel and temptress, and she’d been all his, if only for those stolen moments. And now she had him wanting her all over again in the wildest way.

  “I’m sorry, Chef, you’re needed back in the kitchen,” said one of the wait staff.

  Sean was normally all about setting a professional example for his kitchen team. His was a young, friendly, busy and sometimes theatrical environment, constantly fast-paced but always fun.