Anton was an amazing person and he was glad to have him as a cousin, although he saw Anton as more of a big brother. He could remember when he was still in his teens, Anton was already helping out his dad with the business. So Anton deserved to be the heir, not him. He knew he had made the right choice. And so he must keep up this stupid façade, sleeping with random women, frivolously spending his father’s money, and most of all, refusing to take any responsibility in the business.
Some nights he wondered when he would find the right woman who would actually help him fall asleep for real, without the help of sex or alcohol. After his mum passed away during his birth, he had always slept alone, being bottled fed instead of breastfed. Therefore, there was always this niggling need to be loved and feel loved, to have a body lying next to him, to comfort him when he cried, to pat his head when he did well, to soothe his pain when he was hurt, or to comfort him simply for the sake of comforting him and loving him. Betty was nice, but she was his stepmom. And she didn’t come into his life until much later, when his father spotted her among the other maids.
“It is,” Clarice said after a while, bringing his thoughts back to the present. “We went there a few years ago to create a dental practice for the children in Battambang.”
Hunter gazed at the avocado. She held an expression of nostalgia. He smiled and was lost there for a minute as she gazed out into some faraway place, her thoughts in another time.
Hunter felt a little guttered that he didn’t get to go to Battambang. Their foundation was set up in the Kendal Province, or Central Province, near the capital of Cambodia, Phnom Penh. Maybe if he went at the end of this year, he could explore that part of the country and check out her clinic.
“Have you been to Angkor Watt?” Clarice asked all of a sudden, forgetting about their bickering.
“Yes, I have. It’s beautiful.”
Now both of their faces held that faraway look, both casting back to the time when each stood in front of the ancient intricate stone temple that stood so majestic, surrounded by a scenic moat covered with lily pads. From afar, when the sun set on the far horizon behind the temple, the whole scenery was transformed by the glowing reflection of the bright-orange light on the moat, giving the temple an ambient glow that looked so picturesque, like a painting on canvas. This would be the kind of image Hunter would treasure forever.
“I know it is,” Clarice said, reflecting Hunter’s thought. “Apparently the country had some Indian influence, followed by the French. When I was there, they served a lot of baguettes.”
Why was she telling Hunter about her heritage? Why was she even having this conversation with this man anyway? They were not friends. Her nostalgic expression transformed dramatically into a scowl when she realized this.
“Cambodia is beautiful,” Hunter stated. Then his eyes turned mischievous as he gazed at her. “Lovely country with lovely people, unlike here. The one Cambodian I’ve met had to spit on me on our first meeting.”
“Why back to the spitting incident again?” Clarice fumed again. Here she almost thought he was a pleasant man to talk to, what with both of them liking Cambodia and whatnot, but now he was back to being that annoying man again.
“Well, that is why I’m here,” Hunter said simply with a shrug of his shoulder.
“You… arrggh. I’ll personally deposit that money into your bank account tomorrow. And don’t ask for cash because I don’t carry that much. Just text me your bank information later. Now I’m leaving. Don’t follow me.”
Clarice turned to walk away. But it was only a few seconds later when she heard footsteps beside her, and turning around, she saw Hunter smiling his seductive charm towards her again, the same he used with her at his house when she delivered those roses. This time, though, she was not fazed.
“Now what?” she shouted at him.
“I was just thinking why we always seem to run into each other like this.” Hunter walked in front of Clarice and blocked her way. “Don’t you think the wheel of fate is playing a hand in this?” he asked with amusement.
“No. I don’t think the wheel of fate has a hand in this. I think it’s more like the wheel of misfortune,” Clarice said, then turned on her heel and walked around Hunter while he just burst into a fit of laughter.
“Really?” he managed to say after he caught his breath. “I like to think of it as fate. Like we’re meant to be rivals or enemies for life; that’s why I keep seeing you everywhere,” he said as he took off after her again.
“What are you doing? Go back to your car. Stop following me.” Clarice shooed Hunter away as if she were shooing away an eager Labrador.
“I’m not following you. I’m only taking a leisurely walk. It’s a nice day for a walk.”
“In this part of town? Like this?” Clarice gestured to their surroundings.
“Yes, in this part of town. Like this,” Hunter said simply, then continued on walking, pretending to admire the view around them.
“I wouldn’t expect a guy like you to be seen walking on a footpath like this.”
“What? Can’t a Greek god like me walk on this footpath too?” He inched closer to her.
“Yes, you can, but not near me,” Clarice said, feeling a little intimidated as he stood so close. She walked faster, trying to outdo him, but no matter how fast she walked, her short legs could only take her so far, and his long stride dissolved more distance than hers.
“The footpath is quite small. Of course I have to stand near you while walking,” Hunter said.
Clarice ceased her power-walking and stood facing him. She almost craned her neck just to see his face. Hell, from this distance, she felt so small standing next to him. In the afternoon sunlight, his long, dusty corn silk hair shone as if spun gold atop his head, and her hands yearned to run through it. Clarice, how could you? She mentally slapped herself for feeling this way towards this Casanova.
“Are you going this way for your walk?” Clarice asked in her serious tone, pointing to the right.
“Mmmm.” Hunter nodded.
“Good. Then I’m going that way,” Clarice thumbed to her left. “Away from you. Good-bye, Hunter. I hope I never see you again,” Clarice said, summoning all of her energy for her power-walk retreat, no looking back. Then she glanced at her watch and cringed. Yikes, only half an hour to go before she had to meet up with the representative at the Silverton Hotel.
Clarice hastened her pace, but once again she felt his presence next to her. Why was her body so in tune with him? She didn’t even need to see him at all. Her body could just tell her he was near. It was like he released some kind of pheromone that only her body responded to.
“What are you doing now? Going back to your car?” Clarice asked as Hunter followed her yet again.
“Yep. I’ve had enough walking,” Hunter said, stalking after her.
“Good. I’ll make way for you.” Clarice paused and stepped to the edge of the footpath so Hunter could bypass her, but instead, he just stood next to her.
“Mmm, the view looks nice from here,” Hunter said, pretending to look around again.
“Hunter, are you trying to annoy me here?” she asked.
“Am I annoying you? I’m just enjoying the view by standing here.” He turned to see some bushes that needed cutting. It was very unappealing, and some of the branches even snaked out onto the footpath.
“You are literally wedged to me like we’re sardines in a can,” Clarice said when Hunter drew himself closer to her, almost imprisoning her with his body.
“Am I? I didn’t know.” He feigned ignorance.
“All right, enough of this.” Clarice’s temper shot through the roof. “You go back to your car and I’m going back to mine. End of story.”
“Ha-ha-ha-ha.”
“What are you laughing at now?”
“I was just betting with myself how long before I could make you lose your temper.”
“And?”
“And it didn’t even last five minutes.�
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“That’s because you rile me up, on purpose.”
Hunter turned serious all of a sudden, making her heart thump unevenly again. He leaned closer, making sure she couldn’t escape, and whispered, “You know, my tastes don’t usually extend to older women, but for you, Madam Avocado, I’ll make an exception.” Then he smiled at her, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Get off me.” Clarice pushed at Hunter’s chest, but he wouldn’t even budge, keeping her wedged between him and the bushes. “I said get away from me.” She shoved him again, and this time he moved back easily. Composing herself now so her breath would behave, she said, “I don’t need you to make an exception for me. I’m not interested.”
“Oh, what kind of men are you interested in, then?”
“None of your concern.” She turned away her face in annoyance.
“Fine. Just curious, because a girl in her thirties cannot always be selective. You know the saying: beggars can’t be choosers. For now, Avocado, you’re a beggar.”
“How?”
“You’re thirty.”
“And would you be so kind as to elaborate?”
“You know how it goes. Women in their thirties are old, while we men in our thirties, we’ve just reached our prime.”
“And the point of this whole conversation is…?”
“That you can’t always wait for the right person for you. When the offer comes up, you have to grab it, because, Avocado, your time is running out fast. Dare I say that your mechanics might not be functioning properly downstairs?”
“Downstairs?”
“Yes, downstairs.” Hunter nodded, eyeing her pelvic area.
When the meaning sank in, she slapped Hunter’s shoulder with her bag. “You bastard! Mother, Father, please forgive me for swearing, but you bastard, incompetent human being. How could you say this to a lady? Just how old are you?
“Twenty-three.” Hunter laughed while being slapped around by Clarice, pretending to defend himself with his arms. Oh Lord help him, he really enjoyed teasing and tormenting this woman. He hadn’t had so much fun in ages.
“Only twenty-three and you’re saying things like that to your elders. God, if I were your mother I’d smack your bottom right now.”
Those words coming out of Clarice’s mouth suddenly made Hunter hard. He stood still, staring at her. God, he was turned on by this woman, who was a good seven years older than him. How was this possible? He’d never found older women attractive before. Yes, she was very attractive and did catch his eye in the beginning, but now knowing her age, he still felt this lustful effect from her.
Clarice, noticing Hunter had gone quite still, stopped thrashing him and stood quietly staring at him with her big black pupils.
Hunter didn’t like this. He didn’t like it one bit. He wasn’t used to these feelings. He was used to chasing women and then throwing them away, never to have any deeper involvement with anyone. This was foreign territory. He wanted to hold her and smash his lips against hers right there and then, on the damn, tiny, suffocating footpath. Feeling as if he were going to give in to this brewing temptation and with the hardness that was growing downstairs, he uttered a breathless, “I gotta go,” and then made a dash to his car.
Clarice continued to stand right there, silently watching Hunter in confusion, wondering why he had suddenly run off and drove away like a criminal pursued by a cavalcade of police officers.
Only when Hunter was out of her eyesight did her mind bring back the uncooked soup of thoughts. Extracting her last bag of chocolate cookies, she nibbled away, walking aimlessly, unaware she had made her way to the colossal Silverton Hotel until she realized she’d finished the whole bag.
The Silverton Hotel boasted five-star accommodations, with head chefs flown all the way from France and Italy. Not her type of food, but a five-star hotel sounded exciting enough when she heard she would be staying there for the conference in Queenstown.
Clarice walked through the double glass doors that opened into a cavernous foyer and reception area. The Silverton color theme was red, gold, and white. According to fêng shui, those were the perfect colors for success. Feeling her surroundings had changed, she was now somewhat quite relaxed and not so agitated.
As Clarice made a turn to walk to the reception area, she slammed into a hard chest. Running her eyes upwards, she saw the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on, excluding the Casanova, of course.
Criteria number one: handsome. Check.
She almost fell, but he held her in place before she toppled over backwards.
Criteria number two: a gentleman. Check.
“Are you all right?” the gentleman asked her.
Clarice nodded her head. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”
Criteria number three: sincere. Check.
“Are you one of the guests here? I can escort you to your room.” the gentleman asked.
Clarice looked at the stranger in awe. “No, I’m not a guest here. I’m here for an appointment. My name is Clarice Chantee Mason, the periodontist who is to speak at the Dental Hygiene Conference in Queenstown.”
“Miss Mason,” the gentleman said. “Thank you for coming all the way here. You are one of our special guests. My name is Anton Silverton. I believe one of our representatives is expecting you.”
“Anton Silverton,” Clarice repeated. “Like the name of this hotel?”
“Yes. I am the CEO. My uncle owns the hotel, though. I am his nephew. Perhaps you have heard of him, Clinton Silverton, born in America.”
Anton Silverton, nephew of Clinton Silverton, who owned a massive chain of hotels all over the world. Anton Silverton, CEO of this hotel.
Reputation. Check. Smart. Check. Rich. Check.
What more could she say? She had finally found the perfect sperm donor.
CHAPTER 11
“I’ve found the perfect sperm for my baby,” Clarice announced to her two best friends and cousin while drinking her green tea in the sidewalk dining area of their favourite coffee shop later that afternoon.
As soon as Clarice uttered this sentence, three things happened at once. Max choked on his freshly squeezed orange juice, which required a thump on his back to recover. Elise, who was drinking her fruit juice, just left the straw hanging from her mouth. And Whitney, who was about to say something, dropped her already gaped jaw like a Venus flytrap waiting for its next meal.
“All right, you guys, I’m sure my news isn’t all that exciting,” Clarice said, thumping her cousin on the back before pulling down Elise’s straw and nudging Whitney’s chin so her mouth would close.
“You mind repeating that again, cuz?” Max asked when he’d recovered. “My mind is a bit boggled with midterm exams right now. Can’t think properly. And then you have to drop this bomb on us like that.”
“Max, my dear, if my news is causing your brain cells to dysfunction, then you should’ve stayed home to study for your exams instead of coming here to entertain us.”
“I’m just a kind cousin.” Max grinned mischievously from ear to ear.
“No, you’re here because you want to drink and eat free food,” Whitney said.
“Okay, that could be the reason too,” Max said, shooting a death glare toward Whitney, then wound his arm around Elise. “But anywho, you were saying you found the perfect sperm for your baby? Who is this bro all of a sudden? I thought you were going to report back to us about your date last week.”
“Yes, Clarice, I thought that was why we’d decided to meet up here,” Elise agreed.
“Well, regarding that candidate, he dumped me on the spot,” Clarice announced simply, like she was commenting about the fine weather today.
“What?” Whitney stood, an angry look on her face. They all knew when Whitney had that look on her face, it meant death.
“Whitney, calm down. Don’t be drastic. Let Clarice explain first,” Elise said, pulling on Whitney’s sleeve, all too aware now of the audience they were gaining. Elise didn’t like
audiences. She avoided being the center of attention at all costs.
“Explain, then,” Whitney stated, sitting back down, readjusting the glasses she wore for her outside persona.
“He saw my age and dumped me,” Clarice told them.
“Why that no-good piece of crap. If I see him, I’ll kill him for sure.” Whitney seethed, standing again, while Max slammed his fist down on the table so sudden and forceful that it made the table shake, along with both Clarice and Elise too.
“No one dumps my cousin,” Max fumed and stood too. “Only she is allowed to dump them first.” Then he turned to Clarice and said, “Who is the bastard, Clarice? Tell me so I can give him a taste of my fist.”
Max was all hyped up, rolling up his sleeves to reveal his underdeveloped muscles to prove he could protect his cousin. “Even better yet, I’ll give him a full face reconstruction. What do you say, cuz?”
“Brilliant, Max, brilliant. I agree with you wholeheartedly. We should give him a leg reconstruction too,” Whitney added.
By this time, their commotion had alerted the other patrons in the café. Now all eyes were on them, which made Elise sink even lower into her chair.
“God, you two, will you both calm down? You’re like a bunch of clowns. Sit down right now. We’re not in a circus, you know.” Clarice stood also, to calm them down.
“I’m not a clown. I’m a school kid,” Max said, grumbling under his breath, sitting back down in his chair obediently like a good schoolboy would.
“I know, but the way both of you are acting, you’re more like clowns to me. Now sit,” Clarice said sternly.
“Yes, Whitney. Please sit down. You’re making a scene,” Elise said, tugging on Whitney’s sleeve.
“I can’t help it,” she said in irritation.
“Of course you can’t help it. You can never help it.” Elise started giggling all of a sudden.
“What’s so funny?” Whitney asked with a heated glare.
“You never change, Whitney. Not since intermediate school,” Elise said, still giggling.
Baby Be Mine (Spinsters & Casanovas Series Book One) Page 10
