Baby Be Mine (Spinsters & Casanovas Series Book One)

by Wanitta Praks

  Back in the confinement of the elevator, it was as if America’s Next Top Model broadcasted live before Anton’s eyes. The competition was between the two women as they posed this way and that to see who could be more seductive, alluring, and captivating to their judge—Anton.

  When the two women stood in their many fashionable poses, the “arms stretched out” pose, the “tilting of the chin” pose, and the “staring over their shoulder” pose, both were quite astonished because they could not detect any reaction on Anton’s face.

  It was Caroline who gave up first. Fern, though, was reluctant to let it go. There was no way she was losing Anton to that woman. What both women didn’t know was Anton had his “hiding his inner feelings” skill mastered to perfection. He’d learned ages ago that showing his emotions wasn’t going to benefit him in anything.

  When his parents died at a young age, he had to grow up fast. He knew he didn’t have his parents to rely upon, so he learned to do everything himself. His uncle had saved him and he was thankful for that. Yet he still didn’t express his desires, thankful enough that his uncle had brought him into his household and raised him like a son.

  To Anton, his uncle was his father and mother. He was his everything, and Hunter was more than his cousin. He was like a little brother that he cared for very much. He knew ages ago that even if he had been named the CEO of Silverton Enterprises, achieving so much at this young age, in the not-too-distance future, the new heir would take his place and he would be willing to step down. Everyone was just waiting for Hunter to grow up, Anton included. And when that time came, he would then marry Clarice and live with her. The sensible couple, they were a pair matched by fate.

  But why then did his heart thump when he saw Fern posing herself in one corner? This elevator was too small. He struggled for air. And Caroline, what had gotten into her? He understood Fern acting this way since she was a bit weird, what with speaking in third person and all that, but to see Caroline, the quiet and sensible girl, posing like some seductress, somehow it just didn’t fit.

  Finally, the bell dinged, the door slid open, and both women wound their arms around his again. Just as he was about to step out, Caroline said something to Fern, which made her cheeks leap into a full pink blossom, and before he knew it, they were both shouting at each other again.

  He was sick of this. He was only trying to get to Clarice, who might be waiting for him down in the lobby, when these two women decided to follow him like two hens fighting over a rooster.

  As he was about to make his escape to the main foyer, he was pulled back into their bickering again. Suddenly, a sweet, sensual voice floated their way, nudging through the fight, and at once they all turned. And the sight before them almost had their eyeballs dropping to the floor. Hunter, his Casanova of a cousin, was carrying a woman in his arms.

  Anton’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach.

  Clarice!

  “Oh shit!” Hunter muttered under his breath when he saw Anton, Fern, who was dressed to impressed, and—shit, shit, shit—Caroline, the stalker.

  “Are we there already?” Clarice asked again, turning her face to look at Hunter. “I need to see Anton.”

  Hunter’s eyes snapped back to Clarice.

  Anton! Anton? Which Anton? His cousin Anton, or someone else named Anton? How many Antons did they have here in the hotel? Only one. There was only the Anton he knew, his own cousin. Unless she planned to meet some old grandpa named Anton. Yeah, that would make more sense.

  Except reality didn’t make a lick of sense when Anton approached him and then called out Clarice’s name, which made the once sickly pale girl brighten up once again.

  “Anton.” Clarice lifted her head from Hunter’s chest and smiled, then turned to him again. “Please, put me down, Hunter.”

  He didn’t like the idea of another Silverton knowing his avocado. In fact, he felt quite possessive over this woman, so he just continued carrying her. His excuse was, “You have blisters on your feet. I’m not letting you walk.”

  “Hunter, let her down,” Anton demanded. “I’ll take over from here.”

  CHAPTER 23

  Lips! Those kissable lips, dripping with honey on one corner, so sweet and so succulent. That little quirk at the corner, curving into a smile, a smile that would lighten up a dark room or brighten up a dull day.

  Oh how she just wanted to lean forward and… and…

  “Yooo, Avocado! What are you staring at? Want a bite of my pastry?”

  “Ah?” Clarice was jolted awake, gazing around once more.

  Oh, right. They were in a restaurant outside, having lunch. And “they” referred to Anton, Fern, Caroline, Hunter, and herself.

  After their surprise meeting at the elevator, Anton had asked Hunter to hand Clarice over to him, which in turn made her fall due to her weak status, which made Hunter burst out that she must be hungry. All five of them sat wedged together in a booth, like a can of sardines, staring at each other as if they were strangers in a jail cell.

  But what made the whole situation worse was Clarice spacing out, sitting there staring at those lips that were busy munching on that pastry. Yes, those lips she wanted to touch with her own, those lips that didn’t belong to Anton, but to that Casanova Hunter.

  What was wrong with her? Had her hormones gone haywire, wanting things so out of her reach?

  Not really. Hunter wasn’t out of her reach, but it wasn’t sensible, not sensible at all. Kissing Hunter would be scandalous. Here she had slept with Anton, the man sitting right in front of her, but now she was lusting after Hunter, which she’d just found to be Anton’s cousin and one of the Silverton’s. So that must mean he was one of the heirs to Silverton Enterprises too.

  Oh, Clarice, get real, she told herself, silently whacking some sense into her brain. What in the world was she thinking?

  “Hunter, who are you calling an avocado?” Anton asked, eyeing him sharply while cutting up his lasagna.

  “This woman here,” Hunter said playfully, indicating Clarice, edging himself closer to her.

  “Avocado?” Fern said, cocking her head to one side as if to see why Hunter would name this exotic beauty Avocado. After a moment of studying Clarice’s face, she smiled, which caused Anton to almost have a heart attack. He quickly turned back to his lasagna and shoved more into his already full mouth.

  That’s it, Fern thought. She now understood why Hunter would name this beautiful porcelain doll with jet-black hair an Avocado. “You are very beautiful,” Fern said, smiling at Clarice, taking both of her hands within hers. “Only a beautiful creature like you should be called an avocado by Hunter.”

  Hunter gave out a hacking cough, his drink having entered the wrong pipe, when he heard his friend say this. And if that weren't enough, he even managed to make a fool of himself by spilling his entire drink on the wooden table too.

  Caroline, who was sitting on his other side, immediately came to his rescue, wiping his mouth with a napkin, hoping to gain some brownie points in his eyes, while the others were in a haste to clean up the table.

  “Hunter?” Fern asked once the table was clean again. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” Hunter said. But obviously he wasn’t. He was red in the face.

  Good God! Beautiful? How did his friend deduce that from the name Avocado? He didn’t know how an avocado could be beautiful. And what was Caroline doing wiping his mouth for him? He wasn’t a goddamn baby. So he pushed her hands away from his face, slightly annoyed with her interference. He didn’t need anyone to look after him. He was capable of looking after himself. Although, he wouldn’t mind if someone else, who was sitting on his other side, were to wipe his mouth for him. Subconsciously, he turned to his other side and saw Clarice looking lost.

  She was confused. How could an avocado be beautiful? When Hunter explained the name to her, he said the plant was old and wrinkly, just like her. She just couldn’t understand it, but when she saw Fern give her a genuine smil
e, she returned the gesture. Fern seemed like a very nice person. Maybe she could get along very well with this girl.

  Caroline was genuinely angry because Hunter had pushed her hand away, which really hurt her ego. So in retort, she pushed that anger towards Fern instead.

  “Miss Fern, what planet are you from, saying an avocado is a beauty?” Caroline pretended to laugh innocently. “Avocado is merely a fruit. Plus, it’s old and wrinkly.”

  Bang on again. Clarice wasn’t happy the blonde was saying she was old. She knew already that out of all three women sitting there, she was by far the oldest. So it shouldn’t really have this much effect on her, but somehow, she was feeling too sensitive today. She didn’t like Caroline.

  “Fern thinks an avocado is a God-given beauty. Isn’t that right, Hunter?” Fern asked her friend again, to which he merely replied with a grunt and another cough. Fern shook her head and turned back to Clarice to smile at her before moving along to face Caroline. “An avocado is the elixir of beauty. Women use avocado for facemasks and everything. And Fern thought you would have known this. What planet are you from, Caroline?”

  Caroline didn’t know how to respond. She was at a loss for words.

  “No words?” Fern smirked at Caroline, knowing now that she’d beaten her enemy by one point.

  Clarice wasn’t comfortable eating lunch with people she didn’t know. And why were those two fighting anyway? More importantly, though, where was her appetite today? The food didn’t taste horrible or anything. She forked the contents on her plate, feeling a sense of nausea coming on, but she closed her eyes and breathed slowly. She supposed she didn’t like Hunter sitting so close to her like this.

  Hunter was unintentionally edging himself closer to Clarice still, as he could feel his seat being taken over by Caroline on his other side.

  But the fact that his cousin was constantly looking at his avocado in an admiring and worrying way throughout their whole conversation didn’t sit well in his stomach. So to counteract this feeling and to lift the strained tension between Fern and Caroline, he asked, “So how did you two meet?”

  “We met when she came to meet with one of our staff to talk about the conference in Queenstown,” Anton said, eyeing Clarice’s pale face with concern.

  Clarice didn’t want to be reminded of how she and Anton had met. She just wanted to be alone with him to ask him about their time in Queenstown, if he could remember at all of course. But taking in his reaction now, all he showed was his normal icy face, the same he had on before they went to Queenstown.

  “Do you know how I met Clarice?” Hunter teased, looking around at his audience.

  Oh, dear heavens, Clarice prayed, jolting her thoughts to Hunter’s comment. Please don’t let that Casanova tell everyone about how I—

  “She confessed her love to me,” Hunter finished her thoughts.

  This statement had Anton dropping his fork, which hit the plate, then dropped to the floor.

  Caroline fisted her hands beneath the table. Another challenge. Another target. When would Hunter stop seeing these women and start seeing the perfect woman right in front of him?

  “Confession? What kind of confession?” Fern asked, not realizing the tension happening inside their small circle.

  “I accidently delivered flowers to his house.” Clarice intercepted Hunter just in time before he started opening his big mouth and spouting out more lies about how she was delivering those flowers just to confess her undying love for him.

  “Oh, I thought you were… Owwww,” Hunter howled when Clarice stamped on his foot to shut him up.

  “Hunter, what’s wrong?” Fern and Caroline asked at the same time.

  “Mosquitoes,” Hunter muttered under his breath, glaring at Clarice.

  “Yes. They must be swarming.” Clarice forced a smile, agreeing with Hunter as she eyed him threateningly.

  Hunter just nodded his head, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. Oh, he would gladly return the favour. When his foot was about to land on hers, his eyes caught sight of Winton trotting their way.

  Like a dog being pulled by a leash, Winton jogged to their table and only came to a complete standstill when he reached Clarice’s side, gawking at her like she was a piece of sweet candy.

  “I want black licorice. I choose black licorice. I don’t want strawberry or banana. I chose black licorice,” Winton said by way of announcing himself.

  “Winton, what are you doing here?” Anton asked his subordinate, who was still lost in his dreamland.

  “Black licorice. Winton wants black licorice.”

  “Winton!” Anton shouted at his subordinate again.

  “Wh-what?” Winton came back to reality. “Ah, boss. Sorry. What did you say?” he asked, but his eyes were still fixed on this exotic beauty. There was no need for a confused decision anymore. He’d made up his mind. He wanted that black licorice there, sitting next to Master Hunter.

  “Winton!” Anton shouted again.

  “What?” Winton shouted back. Ah, blue blazes, did he just shout at his boss?

  Winton turned around to see Anton glaring at him.

  “What are you doing here?” Anton shouted.

  “You didn’t turn up at the meeting so I thought you might be in the restaurant since it’s lunchtime,” Winton said to Anton, but his eyes and body were automatically turned towards Clarice. “Can I have my lunch here too?” he asked.

  “No, we don’t have room for one more per—”

  “Thanks, boss,” Winton said, shuffling Anton to the middle seat so he could take his place sitting right in front of his favourite black licorice.

  All Hunter could do at this point was stare wide-eyed at Winton. How dare Winton treat his avocado like this? Winton needed a lesson in who belongs to whom.

  “Winton… I—” Hunter began.

  “I’m Winton,” Winton said, stretching over the table so he could shake hands with Clarice.

  Winton felt all giddy inside. He wanted to feel that soft hand within his grasp so he could embed the feel of her skin into his memory forever.

  “Clarice.” Clarice smiled at Winton. “Very nice to meet you.”

  “The pleasure is all minnnnneee—ooooohhh.” Winton howled when he felt someone step on his foot.

  “Oh, must be those mosquitoes again,” Hunter said, pretending to act all innocent. “Very annoying. Just be careful. It might bite you too, Anton,” he said, turning to his cousin, who hadn’t a clue as to what was going on.

  “Mosquitoes?” Winton said, jumping up out of his chair. “I don’t like mosquitoes. They suck blood. The doctor said I have sweet blood. I can’t afford for those mosquitoes to drink my blood.”

  “That’s right, Winton. Mosquitoes love sweet blood. What are you going to do now that it has a taste of you already? I think it’s best if you go back insiiiiiddeeeeeee…” Hunter howled again when he felt Clarice stamping on his foot. But he ignored the pain and said through gritted teeth, his eyes sending a death glare to Clarice, “This way you won’t attract more.”

  “Oh, I should be fine,” Winton said happily, brushing aside the comment.

  Hunter wasn’t happy that his plan backfired. He was starting to get pissed off with this whole situation. In fact, the person he was getting pissed off with the most was Clarice. She was like a dead flower that had been revived by water just by having Winton and Anton staring at her. Sheesh! And what the hell was with Caroline? She was like bubblegum glued to his side. He wasn’t comfortable sitting next to her at all. So to vent his anger, he started stamping his foot on Caroline’s too when she edged closer to his side.

  “Owwwww!” Caroline shrieked, unladylike.

  “Did the mosquito bite Caroline too?” Fern asked, laughing.

  Caroline was mad, and because she thought the one who stamped on her foot was Fern, she stamped on Fern’s foot too.

  Fern let out a squeal, which led Anton to look strangely at the redhead beside him. This made Fern mad because Anton just saw her
in a very unladylike position, so she exacted her revenge by planning to stamp on Caroline’s foot, except Caroline was quick and it ended up being Hunter who had to face the unpleasant wrath of Fern’s four-inch heel.

  And before Anton could comprehend what was really going on, everyone ended up moaning and groaning about having sore feet, with Winton rushing off back inside the restaurant, not wanting to experience another attack of the vicious mosquito that had everyone in so much pain.

  When the table was vacant of Winton, Anton still stared quizzically at the people around the table, wondering if there really were mosquitoes in New Zealand, but his thought was interrupted when the waiter came over with their coffees.

  “Sorry for the delay, sir,” the waiter said, giving the coffee to Hunter, passing it under Clarice’s nose.

  The sudden strong aroma wafted into Clarice’s nose, making her gag all of a sudden, and before she knew it, she raced to the women’s bathroom and spewed the entirety of her meal.

  What was wrong with her? She must really be sick. Was she really that nervous about talking to Anton that she couldn’t keep her food down? Maybe she was a little upset because Anton didn’t seem to know anything about that night, even when they’d mentioned their stay in Queenstown. Then she felt someone rubbing her back and handing her paper towels.

  “Thank you,” she managed to say after she wiped her mouth. Then she turned to face—

  “Hunter!” she shouted in fright. “What are you doing here? This is the women’s bathroom.”

  “So?” Hunter said, clueless as to why this would cause Clarice so much distress.

  “So get out,” Clarice said through gritted teeth. Sometimes Hunter could be so dumb.

  “You’re not well. I just want to make sure you’re fine,” Hunter said, coming closer, placing his palm on her forehead. “Your temperature is okay. So why did you vomit? Was it the food?” he asked, concerned. His face was so close to hers that she found she was having trouble breathing again.