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

by Day Leclaire

  Next she stripped off her suit and, unzipping the garment bag, removed fresh underclothes and the cocktail dress she’d decided to wear. She’d bought it before Leonard’s death and had never had the opportunity to wear it. A brilliant red, it made the perfect statement—bold, undaunted, and elegant.

  She pulled on the dress, pleased with the fit. It molded her figure, cupping her breasts, and hugging her waist. Circling the dress at the hips, layers of filmy scarves had been cleverly and unobtrusively attached. As light as air, they fell like the petals of a flower to just below her knees. When she stood perfectly still they lay flat, a soft and supple skirt. But the moment she stirred, the bright red scarves shifted with a life of their own, billowing and swaying as though to some secret music.

  Slipping on heels the same flame red color as her dress, she dabbed a touch of perfume at her pulse points, and checked the mirror one final time. She hesitated, lifting a hand to the base of her throat, and then reluctantly crossed to the garment bag, removing a velvet box.

  Flipping it open, she stared down at the ruby and diamond studded choker and earrings. They were Damien’s last present to her. Aside from her wedding rings, it was the only expensive jewelry she’d kept. When Leonard’s businesses had started to go downhill, she’d insisted he sell the few pieces he’d given her.

  Well, if Damien could wear her Rolex, she could wear his necklace and earrings. Not giving herself time to reconsider, she removed the jewelry from the satin bed and put it on. The gemstones flashed against her skin like bright red danger beacons. Trouble ahead, they seemed to warn, a warning she’d be forced to ignore.

  Returning to the office, she discovered Janine delivering a final stack of mail. “Anything urgent?” Sable asked, glancing at the pile.

  “No, nothing.” Shoving gray-streaked bangs from her face, Janine frowned down at the desk. “Now how did that get mixed in with your mail? This isn’t addressed to you.” She reached into the pile and plucked out a large manila envelope. Across the upper left-hand corner, in huge block letters, was written AJ Construction. “This goes to Mr. Hawke. I’ll just drop it on his desk on my way out.”

  Sable licked her lips, staring at the envelope in her admin’s hand. Oh, no. This couldn’t be good. Why in the world would Alex be contacting Damien? It could only mean one thing. She bit down on her lip. That storm swept ever closer to her precarious stance on the cliff. “You’re going down to the reception, Janine?” she managed to ask, praying her voice wouldn’t reveal her agitation.

  “Yes, Mrs. Caldwell. I want to make sure the caterers are ready to go and give everything a final check.”

  “Fine.” Sable forced her gaze away from the envelope. “Thank you.”

  Janine smiled. “My pleasure.” She crossed to the connecting door that led to Damien’s office and rapped lightly. Not receiving an answer, she walked in. A minute later she reappeared, empty-handed. “Is there anything you need before I go?”

  Sable shook her head, not daring to trust her voice again. She waited a full five seconds after Janine left before crossing to Damien’s office. She hesitated in the doorway, debating the ethics of what she intended. But she had to get a look at that envelope. She had to get a look in that envelope. Slowly, she pushed the door wide and crossed the threshold. Her heart pounded and her breath came in quick, shallow gasps. She’d never done anything remotely like this before. If she were caught . . .

  She glanced quickly over her shoulder as though expecting to find Damien lurking in the shadows, ready to leap out at her from behind the potted palms. This was ridiculous. The longer she delayed, the greater the likelihood she’d be caught. Boldly, she stepped forward, traversing the room, her heels sinking into the soft green carpet.

  Janine had left the envelope square in the center of Damien’s desk. Nothing else marred the surface and sunlight poured from the window, drawing immediate attention to the missive. It didn’t have a mailing label—at a guess, it had been hand-delivered. A slashing masculine script had scrawled Damien’s name across the front, and at the bottom “private” had been printed, the word underlined twice. It had to be from Alex—there was no other reasonable explanation. But what had he written to Damien? She had to know.

  Taking a deep breath, she reached out a trembling hand to pick it up.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Damien’s voice came from just behind her.

  Chapter 7

  With a gasp, Sable whirled around, the petal-like scarves of her skirt flaring out around her. She lifted a trembling hand to her throat. “You frightened me!”

  “Did I?” Damien cocked an eyebrow, closing the distance between them. “I wonder why? Doing something you shouldn’t, sweetheart?”

  She stared at him, her eyes huge and fearful. She didn’t dare answer his question, not if she wanted to live. “You could have given me some warning you were there,” she protested weakly, “instead of sneaking up on me like that.”

  “I could have. But since it’s my office I didn’t see the need.” He stopped inches from her, his height and breadth emphasized by his black silk suit, his wintry gaze more of a threat than she’d ever thought possible. If it was his intent to intimidate, he’d succeeded. Admirably. “I repeat, what are you doing in here?”

  “Just delivering some mail.” She gestured toward his desk. “It got mixed in with mine.”

  “The president of Caldwell’s delivering mail.” His mouth tightened. “What’s wrong with that picture?”

  He didn’t believe her. She could see it in his face and in the clenched fists he held rigidly at his sides. She licked her lips and saw his eyes darken, saw the smoldering desire he couldn’t quite suppress. And she knew what had to be done, no matter how much it went against the grain. Deliberately, she stepped away from the desk, hoping to draw his gaze from the incriminating envelope.

  “You’re right, of course,” she said with mocking lightness, throwing a provocative glance over her shoulder. “I should have handed your mail over to Janine. That way you would have received it sometime Monday, instead of tonight.”

  To her relief, he turned from the desk to watch the enticing sway of her hips and the seductive dance of the scarves as one moment they shifted to reveal an outrageous expanse of leg, and the next swirled closed.

  He ran a hand through his damp hair, rumpling the tawny waves. “What the hell are you wearing?” he demanded, his voice rough with emotion. He ripped his tie loose from his collar, flicking open the top two buttons of his dress shirt. The sophisticated businessman vanished, to be replaced by a man as tough and dangerous as he was irresistible. A man who watched her every move with savage intensity.

  “Do you like it?” She paused in the doorway between their offices, leaning against the jam. The skirt parted again to flash a length of creamy white thigh.

  He came after her then, moving with unmistakable purpose. She froze, her heart pounding wildly in her breast. Perhaps she’d played the role of the seductress a little too well. Clearly she’d started something he had every intention of finishing, even if she didn’t. Color streaked across his cheekbones and a muscle jerked in his jaw. But it was the look in his eyes that held her immobile, her spine pressed rigidly to the wooden doorframe. He stared down at her with such passionate craving that his green eyes burned hot and iridescent. The next instant his hands closed around her shoulders and, with a muttered expletive, he dragged her into his arms.

  “Damien, no! The reception!” she reminded him with a startled cry.

  “Right now I don’t give a damn about the reception. You asked for this. Hell, you practically begged for it. And I’m not about to refuse your invitation.”

  His mouth closed over hers and white heat consumed her, desire kicking in harder and faster than ever before. With each renewed touch, each devastating kiss, her need for him grew to monumental proportions. This had to stop, before she lost all control, before . . . Oh, God. Before she lost her heart to him all over again. Five years ago, he
’d nearly destroyed her, his defection a shattering blow. She couldn’t repeat the experience. She’d never survive it.

  She wrenched her mouth from his, dragging air into her lungs in great, heaving gasps. “We can’t do this. Not here. Not now.” Not ever.

  “Then when? You said you’d name the time and place. So name it.” His hand followed the line of her hip, slipping between the petals of her skirt until he found the smooth curve of her thigh. His fingers glided across her skin in slow, sensuous circles, slipping between her thighs to the moist core of her. He edged past her panties and cupped her. She shuddered and her knees buckled, forcing her to cling to his shoulders. “Tonight,” he urged. “Come home with me tonight.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t,” she murmured. His hand fingers danced across sensitive, needy flesh and her voice broke. “Don’t. Please, Damien.”

  “Why the delay?” he demanded. “You want me. Do you think I can’t tell, that I don’t see the desire in your eyes, feel you tremble every time I touch you?” He pressed closer, trapping her against the doorway. “I know what you’re feeling because I feel it, too. I can’t come near you without wanting to rip off your clothes.”

  She turned her head to one side, her eyes squeezed shut. “You don’t just want me. You want revenge,” she protested, fighting to retain her sanity. “Sometimes I think you want it more than anything else. You intend to use me and once you do, once you’ve had your satisfaction, you’ll toss me out of your life again. Well, I can’t let you treat me with such contempt. I don’t deserve it.”

  “Contempt?” His touch grew more intimate. “Does this feel like contempt to you?”

  No, it felt like heaven. She turned her head to look at him, her gaze direct and unflinching. “Where will it lead, Damien? Once you have what you want, what then?”

  She sensed his withdrawal and braced herself against the anguish sure to follow. His hand slid from between her legs and she had her answer, without his ever saying a word. He didn’t want her, not on a permanent basis. Once he’d had his fill, he’d walk away. And no matter how much she tried to tell herself she didn’t care, that he’d never kept the truth of his intentions from her, his silent acknowledgement was a torment beyond calculation. Oh, Damien, whatever happened to us? Who’d have believed it could ever come to this?

  His gaze fastened on the ruby choker circling her neck and he ran his thumb over the glittering stones. “Caldwell let you keep the jewelry I gave you?” he asked, his change of subject a welcome relief, giving her precious moments to bank the flames he’d ignited. “I’m surprised.”

  She shrugged, hoping the gesture looked casual and indifferent, successfully hiding the desolation he’d wrought. “Leonard didn’t know I owned them,” she admitted.

  He gave a short, harsh laugh. “Let me guess. If he had known, he’d have suspected I’d given than to you. And once he’d realized they came from me he’d have sold them to help bail himself out of his financial mess.”

  “He’d probably have considered it poetic justice,” she admitted.

  “And damn your feelings on the matter?”

  “Possibly,” she conceded. Unquestionably. “But they belonged to me, not him.” And she couldn’t bear to part with them.

  Damien’s mouth curved. “Yeah, well, Lenny liked taking things that didn’t belong to him.” He gathered his control and forced out a smile. “I’m glad you kept them. They suit you. So does the dress for that matter.”

  “Thank you,” she said lightly. “And now, if you’ll give me a minute to freshen up, I think it’s time we went down to the party. We’re already five minutes late.” And heaven only knew what their employees and guests would make of that. Whatever they thought, it wouldn’t be far from the truth.

  His hand gripped her elbow, preventing her from moving. “You still haven’t told me where or when.”

  “No, I haven’t, have I?” He wasn’t slow on the uptake, nor did he bother to hide his displeasure. She pulled from his grasp and stepped away from the door, turning her back on him. She could feel his eyes boring into her spine.

  “Sable.” He waited until he’d captured her attention, his expression stern and ruthless. “Just so you know, I keep all the bid information locked in a safe.”

  Fierce color heated her cheeks and in that moment she almost hated him. The irony of it made her want to weep. She hadn’t been after the bids. Even so, the whole purpose of her venture into his office had been equally damning—to steal Alex’s envelope. She couldn’t very well protest her innocence when she had so much else to feel guilty about.

  “I’ll keep that in mind for future reference,” she said coolly, and disappeared into her bathroom, using the precious moments afforded her to recover her poise.

  Five minutes later they entered the party and it proved every bit as bad as Sable had feared. All eyes turned in their direction, a momentary hush descending on the gathering. She faltered just enough for Damien to notice.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Sorry,” she murmured, making a swift recovery. “All the attention threw me for just a moment.”

  His brows drew together. “You’re chairman of the board, president of Caldwell’s. You must be used to this sort of attention by now.”

  “Perhaps I should have said infamy rather than attention,” she said in a dry undertone.

  “If you’re infamous, you have only yourself to blame,” he retorted with a noteworthy lack of sympathy.

  “So you keep telling me.”

  She swept down the stairs to the ballroom as she’d done innumerable times before, her spine ramrod-stiff and her head held high. She wouldn’t allow than to defeat her, to intimidate her.

  To her utter astonishment, Damien gained her side before she’d gone more than two steps. His arm slipped around her, his hand planted square in the middle of her back. The gesture was duly noted. He might as well have put a sign around her neck, proclaiming she had his protection. It meant more to her than she could possibly express, but it provided a false sense of security. She couldn’t trust him to protect her. After all, he hadn’t before.

  The next two hours proved the most difficult of Sable’s life. She greeted Caldwell’s clients, introduced Damien, and then forced herself to stand passively at his side while he seized the conversational ball. It didn’t take anyone long to figure out that the winds of change were sweeping through the company, and Damien was the force behind those winds.

  She met the speculative looks with a false calm, deflected the barbed comments with pleasant smiles, and cloaked herself behind a facade that even the most objectionable remark couldn’t penetrate. But all the while she retreated emotionally, withdrawing further and further, determined to keep a small, innermost part of herself safe from harm.

  The worse moment of the evening occurred when they crossed paths with Patricia, who’d come as the guest of one of their clients. Sable stared at her former sister-in-law in disbelief, stunned by the sheer audacity of the woman. She’d sold Caldwell’s down the river, yet joined in the discussion as though nothing had changed.

  “So,” Patricia said during a lull in the conversation, “how did you enjoy your moment of power heading Caldwell’s? Or didn’t it last long enough to enjoy?”

  Sable didn’t bother to dignify the question with a response. “I’m surprised you have the nerve to show up here,” she said instead.

  “Why? I’ve done nothing to be ashamed of.” Patricia lifted an eyebrow. “Have you?”

  A worried Janine joined the small group at that point, forestalling Sable’s reply. “Excuse me, Mrs. Caldwell. With all the confusion earlier I forgot to deliver a message. It’s from Kyle.”

  Sable stiffened, not daring to look in Damien’s direction. But she didn’t doubt for a minute she had his undivided attention. “Was it urgent?”

  “I don’t believe so. He did ask you to phone home.”

  “Thank you, Janine. I’ll return his call in a few minutes.”
>
  “And how is Kyle?” Patricia questioned, slanting a knowing smile in Damien’s direction.

  Sable struggled to remain calm. If she revealed even the slightest hint of panic, her former sister-in-law would take malicious delight in disclosing precisely who Kyle was. “He’s fine,” she replied steadily.

  Patricia turned to Damien. “Have you met him?” she asked with mock-innocence.

  “Not yet.”

  The brevity of his response spoke volumes and amusement gleamed in Patricia’s eyes. “Yes, Sable does like to keep him all to herself. You’ll have to get her to introduce you some time. I think you’d find it well worth your while.”

  It was the last straw, and Sable’s composure shattered. “That’s enough, Patricia!” she snapped, instantly regretting her loss of control. All eyes focused on her and she fought to regain her equilibrium, offering a remote smile. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a phone call to make.” And with that she turned on her heel and hastened from the room. She had to get away, had to escape before she betrayed herself any further.

  Returning to her office, she placed a quick call home. Millie picked up the phone, her calm greeting going a long way toward soothing Sable’s agitation. “He called you?” the nanny questioned in astonishment. “That little rascal! I had no idea he knew your work number.”

  “But everything’s all right?”

  “Just fine. I put him to bed over an hour ago and haven’t heard a peep out of him.”

  “Thank you, Millie. I should be home soon.”

  Ringing off, Sable rubbed her temples, the beginnings of a headache setting in. She hesitated, glancing in the direction of Damien’s office. If she intended to get a look at Alex’s communiqué, it was now or never. Taking a deep breath, she crossed the room and pushed open the door. This time she didn’t hesitate, but hurried directly to Damien’s desk and picked up the envelope.