Another tear slipped free and rolled down her cheek. “I should hate you,” she said in a voice so soft he had to lean even closer to hear it. Only a few inches separated them now. “You ruined everything. Why don’t I hate you?”
In some distant part of his mind, he was calculating the extensive list of reasons why she should hate him. But that list wasn’t the reason he wiped this second tear away with his thumb, nor was it the reason he lifted her chin, pulling her closer. Because she didn’t hate him. “Because I’m trying to take care of you.”
This close, her eyes were an impossible shade of blue, like sapphires catching the light. And the fact that he was even thinking such trite thoughts about any woman—much less this woman—was so far out of character for him that he almost didn’t recognize himself.
“Why?” Her breath was warm against his cheek. He was close enough to feel that breath, close enough to taste her.
He was going to. He forgot about campaigns and illegitimate children and breweries and terrible fathers. His hand slid down her cheek to her neck and he could feel her pulse throbbing just underneath her delicate skin—skin he wanted to press his lips against. For the few moments they had near privacy in the back of his car, he didn’t want to think about the past or the future. Just her. Just him and her.
He brushed his lips over hers, a request more than a kiss. At first, he thought she was going to kiss him back—she sighed against his lips and leaned into him. When she did so, all he could think was mine.
Mine.
Then she pulled away, her cheeks blushing a brilliant crimson. She snapped her gaze out the window and then startled again. “Wait—why are we here?”
Daniel forcibly shook back to himself. Had he lost his mind? Had he almost kissed Christine Murray in the backseat of his car as they were making a getaway of sorts?
She completely turned him around. Did she have any idea how hard it was to do that? He never lost control—or failed to see the big picture.
Except when it came to her, apparently.
“Ah. You didn’t think I was going to help you disappear without getting your daughter, did you?”
Christine looked stunned as the driver pulled around the back of the day care. “What did you do?” she asked in that voice that he didn’t like—distant and scared.
He didn’t want her to feel like she had lost control of her life, even if she had. “I told them you would be picking Marie up early and if they could somehow find a car seat for her, that would be great.”
Christine turned back to look at him. “They’re going to think you’re kidnapping us.”
“I’m not. You know that, right? If you wanted, I could leave you here. I’ll have Bradley and Porter bring you your car. I will leave you alone if you want me to, Christine.” As the words hung in the air, he found himself fervently hoping that she wouldn’t want him to.
An older woman with a helmet of curls peeked out the back door. That was probably Mrs. McDonald, the day care operator he’d spoken to on the phone. Christine shot a concerned look at Daniel, but then got out. Daniel let the women speak in private.
As he waited, he got a text from Porter that the investigator had safely returned Christine’s coworker to the bank through the staff door. Most of the reporters had dispersed—but Porter warned they could be heading for the day care next.
They didn’t have much time. Christine needed to decide what she wanted to happen next. Would she be able to trust him? And if she did, where would he take her? Denver wasn’t safe. If someone connected him with her, it would only make the situation worse.
No, they had to go somewhere else. Somewhere where he was not the executive vice-president of the Beaumont Brewery and she was not Clarence Murray’s daughter.
If it were just the two of them, he would fly her to Seoul. He maintained a condo in the city and usually spent at least a few weeks a year there, monitoring his business interests and honoring his grandparents’ graves.
Christine went inside with Mrs. McDonald. No, he absolutely did not want to bustle a toddler onto a plane for an eighteen-hour flight. Which left only one option.
He called up the number of his pilot. “Lennon, get the jet ready. I’m leaving for Chicago and I’ll have two guests, a woman and a baby. Please plan accordingly.”
* * *
“Are you sure everything is okay?” Mrs. McDonald asked for the fifteenth time. “Because if it’s not...”
Christine sighed. At this point, all she could do was hide but where would she go? She had limited funds for things like hotels and airline tickets.
“Everything is fine. Mr. Lee is a family friend. My father is in the news again and there were a bunch of reporters at work and I’m afraid that they’re going to be on their way here next and I need to keep Marie safe. That’s all this is.”
When she said it like that, it all sounded perfectly reasonable.
Unlike that near kiss in the backseat of Daniel’s very expensive car. There hadn’t been a single reasonable thing about that—not the way he’d touched her and not the way her body had responded to him and not the way that, even now, she wished she’d let him kiss her.
But Daniel had a driver, for God’s sake, sitting right there in the front seat. She couldn’t kiss Daniel with witnesses.
She was in Mrs. McDonald’s office, a closet-sized room with a huge glass window so she could see who came and went from the Gingerbread Day Care. It was nap time and, for once, the building was quiet. “I just find it odd that a strange man calls up and asks me to find a child seat and get Marie ready and he’s not on your preferred list. And then you show up with him in a car like that? You have to admit, Ms. Murray, that the whole thing is odd.”
“Daniel is a friend,” Christine repeated. “I promise there’s nothing hinky about this.”
God, how she wished that was true.
Mrs. McDonald fretted. “Well, if you say so.” She led the way out of the tiny office to where all of the children were sprawled out on miniature cots.
Christine moved as if she were in a daze. Daniel had almost kissed her. In the movies, a kiss was a moment of clarity, a declaration. It made everything make sense.
This wasn’t the movies and Christine had never been more confused in her entire life. Everything had spiraled out of control—including her good sense. Because Daniel Lee’s lips should be nowhere near hers.
But there was one thing that hadn’t changed—that was her daughter. Christine bent over Marie’s sleeping form. “Honey, we’re going for a ride, okay?” Marie didn’t stir.
Mrs. McDonald appeared with Marie’s backpack and a car seat that had seen better days. Christine lifted her daughter and the two women moved silently to the back door. Marie stirred in Christine’s arms, so warm and heavy with sleep.
The driver, whose name Christine did not know, was waiting for them. He took the car seat from Mrs. McDonald and started to install it where Christine had been sitting.
At the same time, Daniel came over to speak to Mrs. McDonald. As Christine watched, he thanked her warmly and handed her a check for the car seat. He even made sure she had his cell phone number, inviting her to call at any time. He talked about this Porter Cole guy again, the private investigator who had apparently been watching Christine for some time. He promised Mrs. McDonald that, if anyone from the media showed up and started making a nuisance of themselves, Porter would help her handle it.
That was when Mrs. McDonald surprised Christine. “The Porter Cole? The hotshot detective that does all that work for the Beaumont family?” Honest to God, Mrs. McDonald’s eyes lit up.
Christine had never heard of Porter—but then again, she wasn’t exactly plugged into the heartbeat of the Denver social scene.
As Daniel and Mrs. McDonald discussed the private investigator, the driver got the car seat installed and Christine got Marie belted in. Daniel walked Christine around to the other side of the car and held the door for her, and then circled back around to sit i
n the passenger seat in front.
And just like that, they were off. Destination unknown.
She felt she should be panicking more but she was drained. “We’re going by my apartment?”
“No. Not unless there’s something that you absolutely cannot live without. Medicines, for example.”
She got the feeling he was asking about birth control. She’d had an IUD installed after Marie’s birth for obvious reasons. “No, no medicines.” She rifled through Marie’s backpack. Oh, thank goodness—there was Pooh Bear, her stuffed animal. “If we don’t go back to the apartment, where are we going, Daniel?”
He turned around in the seat, his gaze meeting hers. “You want to disappear until this blows over, right?”
“Yes.” But even as she said it, another wave of exhaustion hit her. Would this ever really blow over?
“Chicago, then. We’re going to Chicago.”
Her mouth fell open and she couldn’t do anything but stare at him for a long moment. Then the moment got longer she tried to make sense of what he’d just said. “Chicago? As in, Illinois?”
An almost smile ghosted over his lips. “There’s only one. I maintain a residence there. The other alternative was Seoul, South Korea—but I didn’t think your daughter would do well on a flight that long.”
She blinked. “You maintain a residence in South Korea?”
“Of course,” he said, as if it was no big deal to own homes in multiple countries. “Now, if you’re comfortable...” She began to laugh, but he ignored the outburst. “Could you give me your size and preferences for clothing and toiletries?”
God, just when she thought it couldn’t get any worse—now this gorgeous, apparently filthy-rich man who had almost kissed her wanted to know what size she wore. “Why?”
“You can sleep in those clothes if you want, but I think you and your daughter will be more comfortable if you have a change of clothes. And Marie needs diapers?” It came out as a question.
Despite the insanity of it all, she smiled at him. “That would probably be a good idea. Can I make a list?” That way, at least, she wouldn’t have to say size twelve out loud.
He nodded and produced a small notepad. She wrote down a basic list of things they would need and handed it over to him.
This wasn’t a stretch limo so there was no partition dividing the front and the back. But after she handed over the list, it was almost as if a wall was raised between them. Marie had fallen back asleep once the car started to move and Daniel turned his attention to his phone. He was texting and then he made some calls. He spoke in a language she assumed was Korean.
He owned a home in Korea. In her internet searches, she hadn’t turned up anything that even hinted at that.
It just reminded her once again that he knew practically everything about her—including her jeans size—and she knew practically nothing about him.
She looked out the window and realized that instead of heading north toward the Denver International Airport, they were heading south. “I thought you said we were flying to Chicago?”
“We are. I keep my private jet at Centennial Airport. It’s easier.”
She hadn’t even realized there were other airports in Denver. Once again, she felt woefully out of her league. “You have a private jet?”
Daniel looked back at her over his shoulder and shot her a quick but intense smile. “Is this going to be a problem? If you changed your mind, we can make other plans.”
“I don’t think we can go to Seoul. Marie doesn’t have a passport and mine might be expired and even if it wasn’t, I’d have to look for it.”
Besides, there were advantages to going to Chicago. There, no one probably cared about Beaumonts or Clarence Murray and his delusional quest for public office. No one could tail them in a private jet. And Chicago was a very big city. Maybe they would disappear into the teeming mass of humanity.
So she made her decision. “Chicago is fine.”
He gave that little nod with his head that was almost more of a bow and then turned his attention back to his phone.
Christine reached over and covered Marie’s hand with hers. This was a level of insane she had never anticipated—but if it managed to keep her daughter safe from the onslaught of reporters there’d been at the bank, it was worth it.
* * *
An hour later, they pulled onto a runway, right alongside of Daniel’s private jet. It was sleek and powerful-looking, and in that way, it reminded her of Daniel. There wasn’t anything wasted about it.
Marie woke up as they were unbuckling her and was now full of postnap energy and grumpiness. Luckily, a woman was waiting for them with a few bags of supplies, including a box of diapers. Daniel said a few words to her.
Christine watched as the woman got into a car and sped off. “Who was that?”
“Someone who works for me. Don’t worry about it.”
Christine snorted. “You realize that I’m about to get on a private jet with a man I barely know and a toddler who’s never flown before because it’s better than the alternative of waiting for the reporters to break into my house. What part of that am I not supposed to worry about?”
Daniel paused, his hand on the railing that led up the steps into his jet. “Christine, I know this is a difficult time, but I would never hurt you or your daughter.”
She so desperately wanted to believe his words. “Again, you mean?”
The look of pain flashed over his face. “Again. Shall we?”
She was surprised to see a car seat already installed in one of the leather chairs—chairs that were nicer than any furniture she owned. They swiveled and had extendable footrests and she was willing to bet the leather was Italian, just like his shoes. “You really do own your own jet.”
“I do. Here.” He held out his hands for Marie. “I’d recommend using the facilities before we take off.”
“Good idea.” But she didn’t move immediately because she was busy looking at Daniel.
“Anal grr,” Marie said in a sleepy voice as she lurched toward him.
The smile on Daniel’s face hit Christine like a hammer because he looked so happy to see Marie, happier to be holding her. God help Christine, but Daniel looked like he really cared about her daughter. That feeling only got stronger when he said, “Hi, sweetie,” in a tender voice as he tickled Marie’s tummy. Marie giggled and Christine’s heart clenched.
In another life, this would be everything she’d never allowed herself to dream of. A hot, rich man who cared about her and her daughter? Her fantasies definitely weren’t this good.
But in this life, she hurried to the back of the plane to one of the nicest bathrooms she had ever been in. There was even a shower.
She took a moment after she was done to wash her face. There was still a chance this was a dream. Possibly a nightmare. She was going to wake up in her own bed in her own apartment with her own boring life stretching out before her. Marie would keep teething, they would keep working on potty training and hot, insanely rich guys wouldn’t make what sounded like sincere promises to her. Because this wasn’t her life any more than her father’s strict rules and regulations for governing female behavior had been her life.
It was only when Christine realized that she was, once again, hiding out in the ladies’ room that she forced herself back to the front of the plane. The door had been sealed, but the plane wasn’t moving yet. Marie was cruising from chair to table to chair. And Daniel? Daniel was sitting on the floor, smiling wildly as Marie got grubby fingerprints all over his pristine plane.
If this was a dream, perhaps she didn’t want to wake up. Perhaps she wanted to stay in this not-reality where an eligible, insanely rich man saved the day.
“Are you married?” she asked before she could stop the words from coming out of her mouth.
Daniel’s eyebrows jumped up, but he didn’t look like she had trapped him in a corner. “No. Despite my grandfather’s best attempts to find me a proper wife to carry the fa
mily name, I remain unattached and uninvolved.” Before she could make sense of that statement, Daniel rose to his feet. “If you’ll excuse me, you might want to get Marie into her seat. We’ll be taking off shortly.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Dying of self-inflicted embarrassment, she scooped Marie out of Daniel’s way. Once the door had closed behind him, she looked around. The sofa would have to do as a changing table.
There was a blanket in the bags—Christine would’ve preferred to wash it first, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. She laid it out on the sofa and quickly changed Marie’s diaper.
“Baby,” she tried to explain, “we’re going to take a trip with Mr. Daniel. It’s going to be a lot of fun.” She hoped.
“Anal grr!”
Christine grinned. “Daniel, baby. Can you say Daniel?”
“ANAL!”
Christine couldn’t help it. She began to laugh. There was no other response possible.
Really, getting into the car and then the plane with him—that was the sort of impulsive, half-baked thing she would’ve done back when she was a teenager. It had only been since Marie had arrived and Christine had been raked over the coals publicly that she had stopped acting out. If she weren’t so worried, she would be enjoying the hell out of this.
Maybe that’s what she needed to do—worry less, enjoy more. While it was still a possibility that Daniel could turn out to be an ax murderer, she doubted it. In fact, aside from the fact that he had openly admitted to destroying her life two years ago, he didn’t seem particularly evil at all.
If that was as good as it got—not particularly evil—then that’s what she was going with. Because the alternatives were not pretty. Brian White, who worked for her father? He was evil. And her father? Evil was a strong word but...
She got Marie strapped into her new car seat and found a bag of Goldfish crackers from the supplies that Daniel’s associate had provided. There was a sippy cup as well. Christine noticed there was a wet bar tucked back in the corner near the bathroom, so she quickly rinsed out the cup. Next to the wet bar, there were several mini fridges tucked under a cabinet. In one there was a variety of alcohol—including stuff that looked really expensive. He flew with champagne? Was that even a good idea? But in the other one there were more normal beverages—soda, sparkling water and apple juice. Bingo.
Billionaire's Baby Promise (Mills & Boon Desire) (Billionaires and Babies, Book 79) Page 7
