Mountain Man's Accidental Baby Daughter (A Mountain Man's Baby Romance)

by Lia Lee

  He nodded appreciatively. “We have an excellent team and dedicated servants of education.”

  “And that’s a team I’d love to be a part of.” Her vision went blurry once she said it. Steady here…you can do this.

  His eyebrows shot up. “In what capacity?”

  “Sir, I’m an eager and motivated teacher of biology, and I have dreamt of the chance to join a faculty like yours. I received my master’s degree last year, and have been—”

  He held up a hand. “Let me stop you right there.”

  Her stomach knotted. “Oh?”

  “Let’s just save us both time and energy with the bottom line. The department is not hiring.”

  Her face fell from the cheery smile she’d plastered on. “What?”

  “Our department has been drastically shortchanged since the last fiscal year. We aren’t taking on any new faculty. The school is in a state of financial emergency.”

  Clara’s face fell further. “What? I’ve been researching this job for weeks. STEM programs are booming for recent high school grads, and the demand for educated and knowledgeable teachers is higher than ever. I’ve been practically stalking the science department, and—”

  “And you couldn’t have known about what hasn’t gone public yet.” Ging peered over the rim of his glasses. “Believe me, I admire your motivation. This is an admirable place for a pitch. You’ve done your homework. But it has nothing to do with demand at this point. They’re in crisis mode. The scandal will break soon; money has been mismanaged for years. It’s a real shame. Maybe in two years, or three, when the school recovers—if it does—you can try again.”

  She gulped back a knot of emotion in her throat. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate your honesty. And thanks for listening.”

  They shook hands and she spun on her heels, eager to process this news in private before returning to her work shift. The smiling guests and wafting jazz music were an unintelligible blur as she raced out of the ballroom.

  ***

  Adrien straightened his back, watching as Clara scurried out of the ballroom like the clock was about to strike midnight. The door closed behind her, swallowing up the trail of her black ballgown, sealing her off from him like she’d been a fantasy instead of standing before him only five minutes before.

  He surveyed the room for what felt like the millionth time. The faces were always the same—a blur of well-groomed American people, all hard R’s and negotiation. But Clara had been a breath of fresh air. Unexpected and much too brief. He caught himself as he turned to follow her out the door she’d slunk out of.

  She’d been talking to the headmaster, a man he knew only peripherally. What an actress had to do with the headmaster was beyond his immediate frame of reference, but he was sure there was a link. Usually involving affairs. Though he certainly hoped that wasn’t the case with Clara.

  Not that he should think anything about Clara. A waif of a woman who’d appeared and then disappeared as quickly as any of these passing faces at a charity function. That’s how all the women in the world acted in his sphere. Brief encounters; fleeting glimpses. Most were married, but all were interested in his namesake. And that made weeding out the duds even harder.

  Had Clara recognized him? Energy had crackled between them, like water on a live wire, intense enough to shake him up, make him think far too long about this stranger who was now long gone from the party. Deep in his bones, he sensed she didn’t know who he was. She’d been so innocent, so openly lighthearted and direct. The connection pulled at him with aching fingers, made him want to whisk her away for one night where he could forget about his life, his obligations, and just lose himself in a woman who didn’t give a damn about where he came from.

  He downed the rest of his champagne and nodded toward some of the guests as he made his way out of the ballroom. After an hour on the job, it was time to go home. He’d put in the requisite smiles and conversations for the evening.

  Once the chatter of the ballroom faded to a pleasant murmur, Adrien let out a sigh. Letting the tight strings of the façade loosen around him was a relief, one he could only practice in moments of solitude. When Mr. Pike, his driver, spotted him exit the front door, he hurried to retrieve the town car. A few moments later, the sleek black sedan pulled into the cul-de-sac.

  Adrien let himself into the back seat, the chatter from the ballroom a distant murmur, Clara’s easy smile burning bright in the back of his mind.

  Chapter Two

  In the cool hall, she pressed back against the wall, drawing a few deep, measured breaths. Keep it cool. No breaking down in public. There will be other chances in the world.

  But what other chances? Her throat tightened. The rent on her studio apartment, the most basic of tolerable options in the city, was climbing yet again. With how much she owed, she needed to hit the lottery, and the only future she could see was a long string of shitty, second-rate jobs. Expendable work as she fought to snag a respectable job in her actual field of study. Places where her analytical mind withered, where her thousands of dollars’ worth of education rotted like a forgotten meal.

  Pinching the bridge of her nose, she allowed herself a few more seconds of misery before she swallowed it down and buttoned it up. Nowhere to go but forward. She marched back into the serving pantry where Katy waited with a hopeful face.

  “I saw you leave the ballroom. So what happened?”

  “They’re not hiring.” She frowned and pulled the pearls from her ears, pushing them into Katy’s waiting hands. “Said they’re scaling everything back. Financial emergency.”

  Katy wilted visibly. “Oh, Clara. I’m so sorry.”

  She shrugged, stepping out of her dress. The white and black of her serving uniform felt like a scornful follow-up to her valiant lunge for a better life. Tears choked her. “Just gotta keep looking, I guess.”

  “Listen, do you wanna go home early?”

  Her heart thudded with desperation. “More than anything. But I can’t afford—”

  “You should go. I’ll get you to switch a shift later this week to make up the hours. But seriously—you look like you’re gonna break down at any second. Just go home and cry it out. You’ll feel better.”

  Her best friend was right. She let a big sigh, shoving her dress into the duffel bag. “Thank you, Katy. I really appreciate it. I think if I just sulk the rest of tonight, I’ll wake up refreshed and more ready to…I don’t know…accept my lifelong debt and inability to escape it.”

  Katy snorted. “Come on. The road isn’t over yet. There are other schools that might have openings soon. Just grab the bus home before it gets much later. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Clara buttoned her work pants and pulled the white button-up over her tank top, not bothering to close it up. She hugged her friend before she slipped back through the kitchen, heading for an employee exit toward the front of the building.

  The Rutgers Mansion was set back from the main road, a short walk down a winding asphalt path lined with lilies and low-hanging trees. Out in the cool night air, Clara released a deep, tired sigh. She’d been looking forward to this evening for far too long, pinning all her hopes and dreams to one conversation she’d imagined too many times to count.

  Ging’s response today reiterated the silent truth flitting through the back of her mind like tadpoles in shallow water—there was no hope, no chance, no reason to even try to get out of the poverty that had plagued her whole life. Even so-called amazing opportunities were sure to flop, like this one.

  And coming up against this unsavory truth in a place like the Rutgers Mansion? That was one final kick in the ribs. Especially amongst all the fancy people there. Especially compared to someone like Adrien, who probably had his pick of dates and rolled around in money as a hobby.

  The thought of Adrien stirred something inside her, a longing laced with…nostalgia? He looked and felt like the man she’d dreamed of her whole life.

  Headlights crested the path in front of her.
She moved to the far side of the road to allow the car to pass. A black sedan crept by. One of the guests was dipping out early, judging by the tinted windows and the newness of the car.

  It came to a stop about fifty feet in front of her, taillights glowing red. She kept her head down as she approached the car.

  “Clara?”

  Adrien’s voice chilled her. She slowed her pace, wincing. Fuck. Prince Charming was waiting for her, but how would he react when he knew the truth?

  “It’s the television star, already changed out of costume.” His voice was smoky yet firm. Busted.

  She turned slowly on her heels. The back window was rolled down. Adrien watched her, an eyebrow lifted.

  “Hey, waffle champ. I never said I was a television star.”

  “You’re right. I just assumed, based on your beauty. Where are you heading?”

  Butterflies erupted in her belly. “Home.”

  “Why so soon? That party should be going on for another hour, at least.”

  Defeat crumpled her. “My shift is over. Nowhere else to go but home.”

  “Well, that’s awfully dreary for a Friday night.” His eyes sparkled. “Can I give you a ride, at least?”

  A shiver ran up her spine. “You really don’t have to.”

  “At this hour of night? It’s no trouble at all. I’d rather you get there quicker and safer than trudge along by yourself through the streets.”

  As she opened her mouth to protest, something snapped inside her. Fuck it. Bad day, bad news, bad outlook. Why not get in a sexy stranger’s car, use his svelte sedan instead of her two legs and the San Fran transportation system? She needed the distraction—badly.

  Clara hurried to the other side of the car. She slid into the back seat onto smooth leather, Adrien’s cologne greeting her. She offered a smile to the driver in front, who didn’t meet her eyes.

  “Tell me where Mr. Pike should take you.”

  She hesitated, mind blank. Something about this car, this man, and this driver felt like she was brushing up against a side of society she’d only ever heard about in movies. “Uh…on Fairview Lanes. On the south side.”

  The driver nodded and the car rolled down the road. Adrien’s smile widened.

  “So it seems to me you really are an actress.”

  She gnawed at her lip. “Only at events like these, apparently. Trust me, I’m not getting a Golden Globe. It just…slipped out. I don’t normally lie.” Hadn’t she wished for this, after all? Turned back into the humble middle-class servant she was, caught red-handed by the prince.

  “Well, Clara, who are you really?” He laced his fingers together, turning toward her. His attention was intense, sizzling over her.

  She pinched her eyes shut, struggling to find the most attractive way to frame her life. “I, uh…well…I’m just…a regular girl.”

  “Regular girls don’t work as caterers and then slip into the main event to hobnob. You had a goal. What was it?” His voice was firm, but he sounded amused. Like maybe this was impressive.

  After she was silent for so long, Adrien added, “I’m only curious. It was a shame to see you go. I feel lucky that we ran into you.”

  She relaxed. “Well that’s nice to hear. Especially since that room was full of far more accomplished people than myself.”

  “You were the only one who didn’t look like the rest.”

  His words sank to the bottom of her stomach. Was that a good or bad thing? “What, elderly?”

  He laughed. “Stuffy and fake, to be precise. Can I take you out for a drink?”

  “What?”

  “Sorry, may I take you out for a drink.” He clucked. “My English slips here and there.”

  “Could have fooled me. I think you speak better than most the native English population.”

  “So is that a yes?”

  Even in the dim lighting of the back seat, his gaze was intense on her. Drinks could lead to so much more. And if that was a doorway for him putting his hands all over her…what was she waiting for? “Yeah.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted. “Excellent.”

  The car merged into the busy street traffic. Clara watched as the lights of other cars receded in a blur. “So why did you leave early tonight? There was still a whole lot of hobnobbing to perform. To use your words.”

  “I came for the mandatory performance.” He shrugged. “I do my time and leave. That’s how it works.”

  “So you do go to a lot of these.”

  “Probably more than you, now that your ruse has been revealed.”

  She blushed, but he couldn’t see it in the darkness of the car. “Well based on your reaction, I might be the lucky one here.”

  “Oh, you definitely are.” Adrien reached out to squeeze her hand. A shiver went through her.

  Clearing her throat, she shifted in her seat. “So should I change back into my Cinderella gown for our impromptu date night?”

  “I’ll leave that decision up to you.”

  She scoffed. “Oh, please. You come and whisk me away in your private car—with a driver, I might add—and tell me to decide for myself? It’s written on the walls. I’m halfway to changing in this car.”

  “I won’t stop you.”

  His voice had shifted slightly, enough to send shivers zipping beneath her skin.

  “Mr. Pike would never allow it, I’m sure.” She looked to the driver for a reaction, but he gave none. “Not much of a talker, huh?”

  “Under the right circumstances, he is. Not when I’m trying to be a gentleman, though.”

  She lifted a brow. No matter how hard she tried, the conversation would return to them. It had been there since the first words that evening. He inspired something in her that made it impossible not to lead him by the ear to the bedroom. “Who asked you to be a gentleman?”

  He laughed softly and looked out the window. In the glow of the passing streetlamps, his jaw flexed. “That’s a good question to ask me over drinks.”

  ***

  “Are we heading to South Beach?” Clara’s eyes grew wider as they drove deeper downtown.

  “You know your way around the city.” He watched her as she peered out the window. There was something about her that felt right—a comfort that couldn’t be explained, especially for having known her a total of an hour.

  “You seriously live over here?”

  “For now, yes. What are your thoughts?”

  She shrugged. “Not a lot of my friends live this way. I feel like a tourist.”

  “Welcome. I’m happy to show you around. What activities do you normally do as a tourist? I promise we can do them while we’re here.”

  She snorted with laughter—endearing and crass.

  “In that case, I expect hang gliding and Swedish massages. And a tour of the waterfalls. Even though there are none in Downtown San Francisco.”

  “I’ll start construction immediately on a waterfall. The rest I can arrange.”

  Clara smiled over at him, but maybe there was a hint of uncertainty there. He’d commissioned more bizarre things in the name of love, that was for certain. But Clara didn’t need to know that—yet. Besides, what was it about her? He never picked up ladies like this—literally picking them up off the side of the road. His lineage demanded constant surveillance and protection, which typically translated into an insular bubble that infrequently mingled with people outside of his work or home life.

  Yet Clara had weaseled her way into his sphere and ran face-first into him. He’d spent his whole life watching his next step, looking over his shoulder, and playing it safe. This woman in his back seat was a stark departure from his routine, but the pressures of his personal life had been so intense lately.

  The car turned onto his street, lined with the industrial-space-turned-luxury-loft that typical of the area, and past a security guard who waved them through. Behind the gates, the apartment complex greeted them, moodily lit with spotlights shining up at the angular terracotta façade.

&nb
sp; Clara stared out the window, jaw dropped. Mr. Pike parked the car in front of the main doors and exited the car to let her out. Adrien hurried out to greet her on the other side.

  “Welcome to my home.” He clasped her hand and led her through the front doors, which whooshed open as they approached. Inside, potted palms and exotic foliage waited, dotting the sleek and modern interior of the reception area. White tiles reflected bright lighting and Clara’s mounting awe. Adrien gestured toward a hallway. Every person they passed nodded his way in quiet deference.

  “There’s a bar down here,” Adrien said, pulling her to keep up with him. He didn’t want to linger too long in the foyer. Though everyone in the building was forbidden to speak to outside news sources, that didn’t mean gossip wasn’t a plague inside the confines of the building. A member of his security detail nodded at him as they breezed toward the bar. Adrien lifted a brow in his direction as they passed him. Clara was none the wiser.

  “Do you own this?”

  He creased an eyebrow. “The building? God, no. Just the penthouse.”

  “Is Mr. Pike going to join us?”

  He laughed, holding open the glass door to the bar and lounge. “Definitely not.”

  Inside the bar area, the air was quiet and relaxed. Jazz music pulsed from hidden speakers. Spotlights highlighted strange art and sculptures along the walls. The decoration scheme was in muted grays and moody teak—the cutting edge of modern. Two other men sat at the bar; both stood to greet him as they walked by.

  Adrien gestured toward a booth wrapped around a small circular table. Clara slid into the seat, looking down her pretty, angular nose at the carved tabletop.

  “What shall I order you?”

  Her green eyes snapped up to meet his. His stomach gave a strange twist; it felt like he could watch her for days, if she’d let him. This woman is dangerous.

  “Cosmo.”