Baby Be Mine (Spinsters & Casanovas Series Book One)

by Wanitta Praks

  “Well? Junior Silverton? What do you say? Would you grant this beautiful Fern a lunch with you?” she asked, staring at him alluringly.

  Anton turned away but accidently caught her sight, in turn, locking their eyes together for a split second, but by God, he almost suffocated from the lack of oxygen in his lungs, just from that gaze. But he composed himself. His ideal type of woman was Clarice Mason. She was the epitome of beauty, sensible and unique. She would make a splendid mother to his baby and a fine wife for him. He’d already made up his mind to woo her. This reminded him that he must phone her for the meeting since it had been a week already since he’d gotten back from Queenstown. Regarding this fiery woman though, sitting in front of him, smiling like she was about to seduce him, he had to control himself. And so he said, “Sorry, but I have a meeting.”

  “Well, how about dinner? Fern can wait,” she asked sweetly.

  God, that musical voice. It was driving him insane.

  “I have work to do,” he said.

  “You’re so busy, Junior Silverton. When are you going to have time for Fern so she can apologize to you properly?”

  “Listen. I accept your apology. So can you leave when you’re done?”

  “Is Junior Silverton asking Fern to leave?” she uttered in surprised. No one had ever asked her to leave before. NO ONE. This man was proving to be more than a challenge, but she must venture forward if she were to save her face and regain her ego.

  “Yes.”

  “Junior Silverton?” Fern came around to sit herself on Anton’s desk, right beside where he was typing on his computer, her short skirt riding up so high it exposed her bare legs. Anton couldn’t help but fidget in his chair when his eyes saw her sitting in this position.

  Fern was smirking and decided to up her game a bit more so Anton would come begging for her forgiveness. And so she draped her arms around his neck and said, “How can you treat Fern like this? Fern is wounded.”

  “Look!” Anton shouted. He’d had enough of this nonsense. He shoved her arms from him and stood up to his full height. He was definitely sure now that he wouldn’t get any work done with this creature disturbing his mind. “It’s unrespectable for a woman of your age to dress and drape your arms around men like that if you have no designs on them. I don’t care what your relationship is with my cousin, but to spout out lines like you’re pregnant with him just so you could surprise him is definitely not appropriate. I am telling you this as an older brother would. Stop behaving this way. It’s you who will end up being tainted.”

  “Junior Silverton!” Fern stood immediately to the insult that Anton imparted upon her. “How dare you criticize Fern’s behavior? She is nothing but true to her feelings around the people she loves.”

  “True to your feelings?” Anton couldn’t believe he was behaving like this. Where was his quiet and businesslike demeanor, the one that always uses logical reasoning to handle everything? He didn’t know, but he guessed his other personality might have just flown out the window now. This woman needed someone to kick her in the backside. “You were hugging Winton when I arrived, and then you sat on Hunter’s lap. And now you drape your arms around me and tell me your actions just reflect your true love for the people around you? How is that appropriate?”

  “Fern, Fern…” Fern didn’t know how to respond. This man was beyond a challenge for her. He was… was…

  “And stop speaking in third person. It’s not proper English,” Anton said.

  “Fern… Fern… Fern can speak whatever way she likes.” Fern lifted her nose high in the air to show she was pissed off at Anton’s behavior toward her.

  Fern was born in Thailand, despite her parents both being Americans. So growing up in the Thai culture, she spoke both Thai and English, intermingling the two languages together, and more often than not, tended to slip her tongue by speaking in third person when referring to herself, as that’s what Thai people tend to speak when referring to oneself. When she spoke to Hunter in her bilingual language, he had no problem understanding her. So why was Hunter’s cousin making so much fuss over her speech?

  “This is how Fern speaks.” She continued to challenge him. “So if you don’t like it, don’t talk to Fern.”

  “Good, because I don’t find talking to you amusing either. So if you’re done with your apology, just leave it at the doorstep and go,” Anton instructed, then went back to his computer, typing away furiously, his hands shaking at this sudden confrontation.

  Good God, he just had his first verbal fight with a female and it sure felt good.

  “Junior Silverton,” Fern shrieked, but Anton didn’t give heed to her outburst as his eyes continued to clue to the screen.

  “Ugggggh,” Fern said, fuming by the time she left Anton’s office. “Fern swears she will make that Junior Silverton look at her. In fact, even beg for her love. Just wait and see.”

  CHAPTER 20

  “Hunter, my darling Hunter,” that musical voice sang sweetly to him. “Come to me, Hunter. I’m waiting for you. I’m waiting for you to see me, to see only me. Come to me, Hunter. I’m waiting for you.”

  It was his mysterious goddess. She was calling out to him again with her sweet, seductive voice that never failed to lure him in, like a wasp to nectar.

  He was in the woods, running up to catch her. All around him, the scent of pine trees and orange blossoms intoxicated his nose. The sky was so blue and the wind blew a nice gentle breeze, cooling his already drenched skin.

  He could see her in the near distance, her long black hair tossing behind her, those long strains cascading in the wind. He reached his hands out, his fingers only millimeters away from the silk of her white scarf that floated behind her, when she turned around the bend and skipped away. She hid behind a tree, her face partially hidden from his view, trying to catch a glimpse of him as he was running to get to her. A single giggle escaped her lips, and then she ran off again before disappearing deeper into the thick of the woods.

  “You’re too slow, Hunter.” He heard her voice echoing in the scenic forest. “Run faster. Find me, Hunter.”

  He tried to run as fast as possible to catch up to her while she skipped at her own slow, melodic pace, but no matter how fast he sprinted, he was never able to catch up.

  He wanted her; he wanted to catch her. He wanted to be with her. His heart was telling him he needed to catch up to her, so it thumped faster to keep pace with the speed of his feet. Then he came to a clearing, a beautiful meadow dotted with a few trees and lots of lush flowers.

  There she was, sitting on a swing made of vines, with her back to him. He walked silently towards her and crouched down. Wrapping his arms around the small of her waist, he nestled his head in her soft scented hair, inhaling the orange blossom and pine that was driving his desire.

  “Hunter, my darling Hunter,” his goddess said. “You’ve found me.”

  “Yes, my mysterious goddess. I’ve finally found you,” he replied.

  His mysterious goddess, she was so beautiful and so sweet that his hand shook when he parted her hair to reveal her swanlike neck. Then he kissed her there, gentle, small kisses along the nape of her neck, until she offered him a soft moan.

  He couldn’t control his desire for her anymore. He wanted to tell her, needed to tell her of this feeling hiding inside his heart. So he placed his hand underneath her chin and slowly turned her around, only to come face to face with—

  “Clarice?”

  * * *

  “Shit!” Hunter cursed, jolting wide awake, his pores covered in perspiration and his heart beating like African drums. “Not again.”

  It was that dream again. Since he’d arrived back from Queenstown, he had been continuously plagued with that dream of chasing his mysterious goddess, her calling out to him to find her. Then when he finally found her, it was only to find out his mysterious goddess had somehow transformed into Clarice, the avocado.

  It was always the same every time he woke up. That sweaty feeling
that made him feel horrible, those bed sheets drenched in his perspiration, and the feeling of tiredness and exhaustion, like he’d been running a marathon in his sleep.

  In his dreams, there were many variations of his goddess, from her wearing a white dress to a red dress, with her having her long hair cascading down to her waist or her hair styled in a chignon. Even the scenery changed according to her dress, from her being in the woods to her on the beach and in the cities. But the concept nonetheless remained the same; he would continuously chase after her.

  Hunter rubbed his sleepy red eyes and two weeks of stubble. Horrible. That was the word he would use to describe himself. Horrible and awful. He felt like a caveman. The dream was definitely wearing him down. He had to do something about it. And to top it off, he hadn’t been home for over two weeks. His dad and Anton had been calling him constantly to visit their estate in the North Shore, but he preferred to stay hidden in his townhouse in Central Auckland.

  The dream wasn’t the only thing that was to blame, though, although it did play a part in his facial appearance and lack of energy, but the other reason would be Caroline. She had called him constantly since they left Queenstown, and here he thought she was a quiet, subtle girl. She was like a stalker, tailing him at every turn. Thank God she didn’t know where he lived; otherwise, this house would be infested with her scent again.

  God, that perfume, Hunter thought. He almost gagged every time she came near. It was so powerful that it literally bashed all his little olfactory receptors to death. His poor receptors would require days, or even weeks, to recover. Although, he must admit if he could smell that perfume from twenty meters away, he could always make his escape just in time before she reach him.

  He shook his head and scuffled his hair again. It was getting longer. Maybe he needed to cut it. He took the hair tie out of the top drawer and tied it up in a ponytail atop his head, then got out of bed, remembering that today he could not avoid going into the hotel, since Anton wanted to see him for some sort of meeting.

  He’d been in the other day when his best friend Fern decided to surprise him with the news that she was pregnant with his baby. He knew that could never happen because he’d never had any intimate relationship with her, but it sure affected his dad and Winton. But he guessed the person who immediately took a strong disliking to Fern would be his traditional, old-fashioned cousin Anton. He wondered what Anton would say if he knew Fern was at their hotel for the duration of her stay, which was a good two months.

  After feeling somewhat refreshed by that cold morning shower, Hunter was all ready to face the day. Before he left, he picked up his cell phone, then flicked it open and stared at his wallpaper.

  “Avocado, what are you doing to me?” he asked, then closed it again and went to his red Ferrari and drove to Silverton Hotel. Except he didn’t get as far as his garage when the head of his nosey neighbor, Macy Beanstalk, came out of her house, intercepting his path.

  “Why, good morning, Hunter darling,” Macy greeted her neighbor. “A fine day is it? Would you like a muffin?” She came over to lean on the fence that separated their territory and offered him some of her baked goods. If that fence didn’t exist, Hunter was sure she’d be on his front doorstep by now.

  “No thanks, Macy.” He smiled. “Have to hurry. Got to meet Anton over at the hotel.”

  “Oh, sweet and sensible Anton. He is such a hard worker, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, he is.” Hunter was glad everyone looked up to Anton.

  “And you? The captivating Casanova? Have you caught any new female species yet with those lasso looks of yours?”

  My business, Hunter wanted to tell her. But he couldn’t, so instead, he just smiled and said, “None.” Then he dashed off before she could question him more about his life or offer him her homemade muffins again. If Macy were to continue to eat any more muffins, Hunter was sure she’d needed to change her last name from Beanstalk to Muffins.

  Safe now that he was in his car, Hunter drove for a bit when he suddenly slammed on the brake and stopped, not because he ran through a red light or anything. It was just… it was… God help him, was he fantasizing again? Did he dream about her so many times that she just ended up appearing in front of his face now? God… it-it’s that avocado. And what the hell was she doing caressing her lips like that on the sidewalk like she was in some sort of trance? Oh shit! The image of that kiss with Clarice came back into his mind again and his heart began sprinting wildly.

  “My goddess, where are you? Stop my thinking about this avocado. I need to see you again.” Hunter slumped his head on the steering wheel as if begging his goddess to appear before him. After some time of calming his heart rate, he glanced back up and—

  “Shit! She’s still there. The avocado,” he growled. There was no use getting away from her.

  Hunter looked heavenward, asking why must he see her now when he was still in his confused state.

  Disgusted at his own reaction to this woman who he had clearly vowed he would never fall for, Hunter slammed his foot on the accelerator and, without looking at her still in her delirious state, tenderly touching those lips, he zoomed past her.

  A few more minutes of driving had him stopping again. He parked in front of a park and sat looking at the children playing with their parents, their voices echoing with laugher, seeing but not seeing, hearing but not hearing because he was lost in his own world. For once in his life, he hadn’t a damn clue as what to do next.

  Shit, what was wrong with him? He cursed himself. And what the hell was wrong with her? What the hell was she doing in his neighborhood anyway? He asked himself these questions again and again, but he could find no answers. There was only one way to find out. And without even realizing what he was doing, he ignited the engine again, pulled his gear into reverse, and did a U-turn.

  CHAPTER 21

  Worrying isn’t going to do you any good, Clarice told herself. And neither was chewing her lips, because at the end of the day, they would just be swollen and ugly. But she just couldn’t help herself. What if she didn’t conceive? It was only one time.

  Should she ask to sleep with him again? She knew all the symptoms of pregnancy and she hadn’t experienced any yet. Then again, it hadn’t been over two weeks yet. She was scheduled to meet up with Anton today to discuss the presentation she was going to give to his elderly guests. She wondered if he would talk to her about that night, or even if he could remember at all.

  A sudden cough from her car drew her attention away from her mulling thoughts.

  “What’s wrong, Red?” she asked. In reply, her car just continued to spatter and cough.

  Was it playing up? Oh, please, don’t play up now. Not when she was already halfway to Silverton Hotel.

  “No, no, not now, Red. Why must you get sick now?” Thank heavens it wasn’t a busy road and she was able to park on the curbside just before it released a final hacking cough. Sadly, Red died a sudden death, smoke drifting from its bonnet.

  “I just took you for your six-month checkup. They said you were fine, and now you do this to me? Just when I need to meet Anton too,” she grumbled and stepped out of the car.

  She lifted the hood and more smoke came billowing out. She stood back before it could make its way into her lungs. Once it dissipated, she went back to look at the engine. She saw all the wires and containers, but having no knowledge of cars, she just couldn’t diagnose the problem.

  “What am I supposed to do with you? Replace you?” she asked in frustration. But inside, she knew she could never replace her beloved Corolla, or Red, as she so lovingly named it.

  She had bought Red during her final year of dentistry, after working so many different jobs, as a kind of reward for finishing her degree. Now, almost eight years had passed, and Red was still with her, through thick and thin, through sadness and happiness. She had money now, which could easily afford her a brand new car if she so wished it, but it was the sentimental relationship she had with Red that had stopp
ed her. Red meant a lot to her. But looking at its condition now, with its brand new door—some unknown person had crashed into her a few months back—and its sickness, she wondered just how much longer her Red would last.

  Sighing with resignation, she checked her whereabouts with her cell phone GPS and found it was an hour walk to Silverton Hotel. Deciding a car would be better, she decided a taxi should pick her up, but first she rang her car insurance company to have Red picked up. Once all that was done, she phoned the taxi company.

  “Hello. This is Efficient Taxi. How may I help?” she heard the operator say.

  “Hello, I would… Hello… Hello?” Clarice looked at her phone and wanted to drum her head against poor Red’s bonnet. Oh dear heavens, why didn’t she charge her phone? Just when she needed to call the taxi too. She’d never been careless like this before, well, before coming back from Queenstown anyway. Lately, she seemed to miss so many things.

  Glancing at her wristwatch, she saw she had but an hour left before her meeting with Anton.

  She glanced around. The scenery looked picturesque, like the houses from The Stepford Wives, starring Nicole Kidman. This was Herne Bay, the suburb where the rich lived. Dear heavens, it was exactly the same suburb where that Casanova Hunter lived. She just hoped she wouldn’t meet him today, what with that kiss he’d imparted on her that she just couldn’t stop thinking about it. If he were to appear, how would she face him?

  She could still remember the feel of his lips resting upon her own, so soft, as he tasted her, teased her, as if searching for something. She touched her own lips, tracing her index finger softly along. Yes, right there, those lips touched hers right there, so silky smooth, so velvety, like the taste of a plum, ripe and juicy, deli—