The Secret Baby: The Sinful Secrets Series (Book #3)

by Day Leclaire

  Dinner with Damien had been a bad idea. A very bad idea. It had brought back too many memories, left her far too vulnerable. From now on she had to keep their relationship strictly professional. She couldn’t allow herself to fall into the trap of thinking there could be anything more than Caldwell’s between them, certainly not the love affair they’d once experienced. That path led to disaster. And she had too much to risk even to consider anything so insane.

  Damien returned to the launch then, her purse beneath his arm. She couldn’t believe she’d left it behind. She really must be losing her grip. He joined her in the bow, sitting uncomfortably close. But since she could hardly shift her position without subjecting herself to more of his caustic remarks she stayed put.

  “You sure you don’t want to go inside the cabin?” he asked. “There’s quite a breeze.”

  She shook her head and he didn’t attempt to change her mind. Instead he draped his jacket about her shoulders, just as he had on their trip over. A few minutes later they cast off, motoring out into the bay. Fog cocooned than, ebbing and flowing about the boat and dusting Sable’s hair with diamond-like droplets of dew. It was as though they existed in their own little world, just the two of them. In the distance, a fog horn broke the silence, the sound muffled, its mournful cry an accurate reflection of her own despondency. She closed her eyes, totally drained, the rocking of the boat, the throb of the engines lulling her toward a peaceful oblivion.

  She stirred just as they docked, the launch bumping gently against the pier startling her awake. Dear Lord, how could she have fallen asleep? It seemed incredible. She stiffened, realizing then that Damien held her. She must have turned into his embrace as she slept for he supported her securely, her head cushioned against his shoulder, his arms wrapped firmly about her waist. How many times during their years together had she drifted off in this very position? And how many times in the past five years had she awakened in the middle of the night, her arms empty and aching, her pillow damp with tears? Too many. She drew away, murmuring a flustered apology.

  He made no comment, simply helped her to her feet, his hand beneath her elbow as she fought for balance on the lurching deck. “I had the captain call ahead. The car should be waiting.”

  “What time is it?” she asked, slipping his jacket from her shoulders and handing it to him.

  “Around midnight.”

  “So late?”

  He shrugged, not in the least concerned. “We were at Nikolai’s for quite some time. We had a lot to discuss, if you remember, a lot to settle.”

  Not that they ha managed to settle their differences, she realized uneasily. If anything, their positions were more adversarial than ever. She walked with Damien to the limo, giving the driver her Pacific Heights address before getting in.

  “I thought Caldwell had an estate in St. Francis Woods,” Damien said as the car pulled away from the pier. “What was it called? Rat’s Nest?”

  “Fox’s Lair. And you don’t need to sound so sarcastic. Your place in Sausalito isn’t exactly shabby.”

  “So, what happened to the Lair?” he questioned.

  “Leonard sold it,” she replied, hoping the brevity of her response would put an end to his questions.

  It didn’t.

  “Why?” he persisted.

  She glanced at him, something in his tone arousing her suspicions. Why the questions? What did he want now? But the shadows that cut across his face defeated her attempts to decipher his expression. “He sold it trying to save the design firm.”

  “A pointless gesture.”

  She laughed shortly. “You should know. You’re the reason the firm went bankrupt.”

  “Wrong,” he bit out. “Lenny was the reason the firm went bankrupt. I merely took advantage of his bad business decisions. If it hadn’t been me cleaning up after him, it would have been someone else.”

  She turned to look out the window. “My mistake.”

  “You don’t believe me, do you?”

  She faced him again, holding on to her temper through sheer grit and determination. “I believe you did everything within your power to break Leonard. And you succeeded. I also think there’s no point in discussing this further.” For once luck was with her and they pulled to a stop on the steep slope outside her house, putting an end to the discussion. “Thank you for dinner. Goodnight.”

  He caught her hand before she could open the door. “Let me tell you something. It didn’t take much effort to bring Leonard down. I could have sat back and done nothing and he’d still have ended up losing everything. All I did was expedite the inevitable.”

  “Why, how charitable of you, Damien. I’m sure my husband appreciated that,” she said with undisguised contempt. “Now let me go!”

  He actually had the audacity to laugh. “Not a chance.”

  Anger barbed her voice, her words coming fast and furious. “Oh, but you will. Once your conditions are met, you’ll be out of my life. And this time it’ll be for good. I’m not Leonard. You may take Caldwell’s from me, but you won’t destroy me like you did him. I won’t let you.”

  “No, you won’t, will you? You’ll fight me every step of the way, bending when necessary, but never breaking.” His hand cupped her cheek. “Well, fight all you want, my love, but it won’t make any difference. You belong to me. You always have. It’s time you faced that fact.”

  The breath hissed from her lungs. “That changed five years ago, Damien. What we had is gone.”

  “I wish it were.” His voice deepened, roughened. “Otherwise I wouldn’t want to do this every time you come near.”

  Not giving her time to react, he lowered his head and took her mouth, took without mercy or hesitation. He drove his hands deep into her hair, holding her close. It was exquisite, a rapture that swept away all knowledge of right or wrong, all awareness of propriety. It was raw and elemental and powerful and she clutched at his shirt, opening to him, the need to respond an instinct she found impossible to withstand.

  He pulled her tighter, cupping her breast. Helpless to resist, she shifted against him, her nipple pebbling within the warmth of his palm. The breath sighed from her lungs and she softened, surrendering physically, if not emotionally. Why couldn’t she fight back, why did her body betray her every time he touched her?

  “You see?” he muttered against her lips. “It’s still there, in every word you utter, every look you give, every touch we exchange. We’re connected. You’re mine, Sable. Deny it all you want, but it won’t change the truth.”

  “No! No, you’re wrong.” With a tiny cry of distress she grabbed the door handle and scrambled from the limousine, intent on escaping to the safety of her house. Before she could, however, Damien stepped from the car.

  “Sable?”

  Reluctantly, she turned around. “What is it now?” she demanded.

  He held out her purse. “I thought you might want this.” He paused, a hint of a smile playing about his mouth. “Otherwise I might be forced to come in and return it to you. And I suspect you’d rather that didn’t happen. Or am I mistaken?”

  He wasn’t mistaken and they both knew it. Without a word, she snatched the purse from his hand and hurried up the stairs to her door. She was running away again, an act guaranteed to catch the interest of a hungry predator. Once she’d reached the relative security of her porch, she risked a quick glance over her shoulder. Damien stood, leaning negligently against the door of the limo. But it was the expression on his face that followed her inside, followed her to the privacy of her bed and into the depths of her dreams.

  It was the intent, savage expression of a lion about to pounce.

  Damien appeared at the connecting door to Sable’s office first thing the next morning. “Got a minute?” he asked, his demeanor thoroughly businesslike.

  “Sure,” she replied a trifle warily, tucking Ryan’s latest missive out of sight. Not that it revealed anything vital—just more possible names. More impossible names.

  Meeting D
amien’s aloof gaze, she realized last night might never have been. Not a hint of emotion disturbed the calm tenor of his voice, or touched the cool green of his eyes. She shouldn’t allow his remoteness to throw her. It hadn’t all the years she’d worked for him. Separating business from their personal life had been as easy as slipping on and off a pair of shoes. Back then she’d bathed in the warmth of his love, secure that nothing could ever harm their relationship.

  Or so she’d thought.

  “I want you to clear your schedule in the mornings for the rest of the week,” he informed her.

  She lifted her brows in surprise. “Why?”

  He tapped the papers in his hands. “We have two vital contracts coming up for bid. I want us to work together on them to make sure we have all our bases covered.”

  In other words, he wanted her working with him where he could keep an eye on her. She didn’t air her suspicions, but nodded agreeably. “Which contracts are these?”

  “A shopping mall in Concord and a state-of-the-art computer complex for Dreyfus Industry.”

  She sat back in her chair, impressed. “Those are huge. Can we handle them?”

  “Not alone. I’m going to pull my construction company in on this, too.”

  She titled her head to one side, her eyes narrowing in thought. “What are you up to, Damien? Are you thinking about a merger, by any chance? Hawke absorbing Caldwell’s?”

  A strange smile crept across his mouth, further arousing her suspicions. “Not at all,” he claimed. “There’s no advantage in consolidating the two firms. But there’s a big advantage to pooling our resources on occasion.”

  “And this is one of those occasions?”

  “I think so.” He crossed to her desk, edging a hip on the corner closest to her. “As long as we’re discussing this, there’s something else we’d better address.”

  What now? she couldn’t help but wonder. “Yes?”

  “I want to throw a reception the end of next week and hold it here. Doesn’t the twentieth floor have facilities for occasions like that? A ballroom or something?” At her nod, he continued. “Since the top management at Caldwell’s has changed, I think it’s important to have a friendly get-together with our key employees and principal clientele.”

  “I see.” She tapped her blotter with the end of her pencil, the only outward sign of her annoyance. “And you want me to make the arrangements, is that it?”

  His smile was devastating. “You were always good at it, Sable.”

  “I still am,” she informed him coldly. “But there’s no point in playing games. Why not admit your plan right up front? You want me to throw the reception and introduce you around in order to make it clear to Caldwell staff, as well as to our clients, that you’re in charge.”

  His smile faded. “Very astute. But don’t look so offended. You’ve already agreed to sell your shares of Caldwell’s to me. It’s not like I’m taking anything away from you. Consider throwing this party a small statement of intent on your part. A guarantee, if you will. Our employees aren’t stupid, nor are our clients. They’ll read between the lines.”

  “Read that I’m out and you’re in?” He inclined his head in agreement and she asked, “So, what’s the rush? Why not wait a few weeks?”

  His expression grew cold and hard. “Someone is leaking information. You know it and I know it. You say you’re innocent. If that’s true, then someone else out there is responsible. I want to make it clear that they aren’t dealing with an easy mark any more. They’re dealing with me. And I don’t take this sort of thing lying down.”

  “An easy mark!” She straightened in her chair as she absorbed the insult. “You must be joking.”

  He didn’t back down. “Assuming you’re innocent, that’s precisely what you’ve been. This situation should have been caught and stopped months ago. And you damned well know it.”

  “I wasn’t in a position to stop it,” she protested. Not while Patricia ran the company.

  “You still aren’t.” He covered her hand with his, stopping the agitated rapping of her pencil. “Now, will you organize the reception, or shall I handle it?”

  She yanked her fingers from beneath his and tossed the pencil onto her blotter. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Fine. Lute has coffee ready. Shall we get started on those bids?”

  Her mouth compressed. “Of course.” She stood and swept her papers together. “Give me a minute to speak to Janine. I’ll have her begin the preliminary arrangements for your reception and be right with you.” But she didn’t like the idea of this party. Not one little bit. Unfortunately, she didn’t have much choice in the matter.

  The next week flew by. Between working with Damien, pulling together the information necessary to submit the bids, and going over preparations for the reception with Janine, she scarcely had time to catch her breath.

  “Wait a minute,” Sable called to her admin one afternoon, releasing an exasperated sigh. “I’ve given you the wrong stack. These are the menus. You have the reports for Dreyfus. If I let that data out of my sight, Damien will have my head on a platter.”

  With an understanding smile, Janine traded papers. “I thought those figures looked a little high for stuffed artichoke hearts.”

  “Hmm. I’m not so sure. They seem darned close to me. How many refusals have you gotten for the reception?”

  “Only one,” the admin admitted in surprise. “Seems everyone’s at a loose end this Friday.”

  “More likely they’ve arranged to be at a loose end,” Sable said with a dry laugh. “I think they find the whole situation too intriguing to pass up.” Janine hesitated, clutching the papers to her chest, and Sable lifted an eyebrow in question. “Is there something else?”

  “I was just wondering whether you’re planning to leave the company, Mrs. Caldwell.”

  The question wasn’t entirely unexpected, not considering the Janine’s familiarity with her past. Or rather, her past with Damien. “I’m thinking about it,” she admitted.

  Unflattering color mottled Janine’s cheeks. “But what about Mr. Caldwell?” she questioned tightly. “It’s an insult to his memory, turning his company over to that man.”

  Sable trained her dark gaze on the older woman. “I assume by that man you’re referring to Mr. Hawke,” she said gently. “In case you’ve forgotten, he owns the majority of shares in this company, something he acquired without any help from me. If it makes you feel any better, Damien has no intention of dismantling the company or changing the name. At least, not as far as I know. With luck, the name will live on, even if there are no Caldwells actively running the business.”

  Janine lowered her gaze. “Yes, Mrs. Caldwell. You’re right, of course.”

  Deliberately changing the subject, Sable said, “If you’d call the caterers with those find alterations, I’d appreciate it. And check with the florists about the centerpieces. They seemed rather iffy about the delivery time.”

  “I’ll get right on it,” Janine promised, making a final notation on her tablet. “Is there anything else?”

  Sable sighed. “A thousand things, I’m sure. But none you have to worry about right now. Thanks for your help on this one. I couldn’t have managed it without you.”

  Janine nodded abruptly. “It’s my job.”

  The door shut behind the admin and Sable leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes. How many other employees felt as Janine did? Did they all believe she and Patricia had betrayed Leonard’s memory? Though she agreed that it was a shame there weren’t any Caldwells left to run the company, she didn’t entirely blame Damien for that. Leonard and Patricia had to accept their fair share of the responsibility, too. Damien couldn’t have bought his way into the company if Patricia hadn’t sold out. Nor could he have driven than to the brink of bankruptcy if Leonard hadn’t been such a poor businessman. Even so, Caldwell’s without a Caldwell was sad.

  The next two days slid by as rapidly as the previous week. Sable stayed in cons
tant touch with Ryan Matheson, hoping against hope they’d find something of significance before his report was due. But with only ten days remaining neither of them were able to uncover how the bid information had been obtained or who might be responsible. Though after her discussion with Alex Johnson, Sable had her suspicions. Now all she had to do was figure out a way to prove those suspicions.

  To her relief there were also no further leaks, but she felt as though she stood on the edge of a towering cliff waiting for a storm hanging just offshore to break, waiting for the gale-force winds to sweep down from the heavens and hurl her over the edge into the abyss below. Her fate seemed inevitable, the only question when.

  Friday dawned bright and clear and Sable packed a garment bag to take to work. She doubted she’d have time to go home and get ready before the reception. Between double-checking the final arrangements for that night and tying up loose ends with Dreyfus before the weekend, it seemed the wisest course to bring a suitable dress with her and change at work.

  Promptly at five that afternoon, the door between her office and Damien’s opened, and he glanced in. “I’m heading down to the gym for a quick workout and shower. I’ll stop by in an hour so we can go to the reception together.”

  “That’s fine,” Sable said with a nod. “I have a few odds and ends to finish up and then I’ll change.”

  “Okay. One hour.” And with that he disappeared.

  Twenty minutes later she threw down her pen and stretched, exhaustion threatening to consume her. If only tonight’s reception were already behind her. She dreaded the knowing glances and derisive comments hidden behind artificial smiles. Though, after five years, she should be used to it.

  Shoving her papers to one side, she crossed to the bathroom. She took her time, brushing out her hair and piling it on top of her head in a formal knot. Next came makeup, just a bit more dramatic than she normally wore. Thank goodness women could hide behind such a colorful and distracting facade. She needed every advantage she could get. Tilting her head to one side, she nodded, satisfied with the results. Her dark eyes were bright and clear, her coloring healthy and, though her smile might be a bit fixed, with luck, no one would notice.