Just a Fling: A Heartthrob Hotel Novella

by Kiss, Tabatha

  “So, my client has fathered a child,” she repeats pointedly.

  “Hypothetically.”

  “And unknowingly.”

  “Yes,” I say with a nod. “What would you advise they do about it? Exactly?”

  Stella presses her lips together. “Well, to start, I would advise a paternity test.”

  “The mother says the baby is his,” I say.

  “They always say that.”

  “But she says she doesn’t want my money. His money.”

  She snorts. “They always say that, too.”

  “So, you wouldn’t believe her?” I ask.

  Stella slides her reading glasses off and sets them on the table. “I’d advise my client to protect himself by requesting a paternity test before making any further personal contact, verbal or otherwise, with the mother or child.”

  “Any personal contact, so like...” I shift in my seat. “So, you’d advise against him, maybe... meeting the child?”

  “Absolutely no contact until a test has been administered.”

  I bite down. “So, no holding her or anything?”

  Her head tilts. “Anything that might trigger a bonding response from either party would generally be frowned upon at this stage.”

  “Until I know for sure?”

  “Until he knows for sure, yes,” she says. “Hypothetically speaking, of course.”

  “Right.” I slink back, staying casual. “Of course.”

  Stella reaches for her mug again. “I’ll ask Nigel to look into your guest,” she says.

  “Yes!” I embrace the change in topic. “Have him invoice me, as usual.”

  “Will do.”

  I stand up and slowly push my chair in. “Thanks again, Stella.”

  “You have my number if you require more hypothetical advice,” she says as I turn to walk away. “And Ira...”

  I pause. “Yeah?”

  “If the test is a match, I’d encourage my client to accept those results and take responsibility for his actions.”

  I swallow hard, feeling that tiny, pink-covered weight in my arms again. “Okay...”

  “And next time,” she pops a brow, “wear a friggin’ condom.”

  My cheeks burn. “That’s good advice,” I say.

  She nods.

  “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. Hypothetically.” I step backward. “Bye, Stella.”

  “Bye, Ira.”

  I spin around quickly and slam into a shoulder as thick as mine.

  “Ira!” My father’s voice booms throughout the dining room as he slaps a hand on my back. “Clumsy as always. Or was that Jonah?”

  “Nope. That was me,” I say as I straighten up but the man still towers over me by several inches. “Good morning, Dad.”

  “I swear, I thought I’d have to duct tape a helmet to his head,” he says to Stella. “Luckily, the military fixed that right up. Boy’s been a straight shooter ever since.”

  Stella chuckles. “In more ways than one, it seems.”

  I force a laugh as Dad shakes my shoulder again.

  “So, what’s going on?” he asks me. “What brings you to Stella’s table so early in the morning?”

  My tongue twists. “Well, I was just... passing through. Thought I’d say hi.”

  He snorts. “Buddy, no one stops by their lawyer’s table just to say hi.”

  I bite down. “Um...”

  “I waved him over,” Stella says, calm and graceful. “Figured someone ought to let him know his fly was down.”

  I glare at her ruby smirk as my father cracks up again.

  That’s Stella Walsh for you. Sure, I’ll cover for you, kid, but you’ll never want me to do it again.

  “That’s right,” I say. “Just an embarrassing wardrobe mishap. Nothing more.”

  Dad shrugs as he lowers into the empty chair across from her. “Eh, could be worse. At least you didn’t kill anybody.”

  I chuckle. “No, I did not.”

  “Or have a love child,” he adds. “That one’s harder to make go away. And infinitely more expensive. Am I right, Stella?”

  “I gotta go,” I say quickly. “Thanks again, Stella. Dad, I’ll see you at dinner on Friday.”

  “Bye, buddy,” he says with a wave.

  I rush out of the dining room as my phone chimes in my pocket. I pull it out and blink twice at the strange message until I snap into focus and realize it’s a street address.

  This is V btw, pops up beneath it and I smile.

  Thank you, I send back before adding her to my contact book. I’ll check it out.

  Sorry it took so long, she adds. Rough night.

  I pause in the center of the gold and blue lobby.

  Should I go up there and offer to help her?

  How hard could it be to sit with a baby while she gets a little sleep?

  Should I send a few words of encouragement and go to work instead? She didn’t specifically ask for help and might think of it as an intrusion if I invited myself up there.

  What would my Dad do?

  Honestly, he’d go to work.

  Not because looking after the boys wasn’t his responsibility but because his job was what made our family possible. I’m sure he would rather have hung out with us all day than be here. Or, I’d like to think he would.

  My father missed a lot because of his work ethic but he was still there. He still went to doctor’s appointments. He answered the phone every time my mother called him. He showed up to our classes on birthdays with trays of fancy cupcakes for everyone...

  I’ve missed everything in my daughter’s brief life until now.

  I don’t know her birthday.

  I don’t know the time she was born or how much she weighed.

  What color were her eyes again?

  My father would have known that.

  So, I’m going to go find out.

  I make my way toward the elevator when Stella’s voice echoes in my head again.

  No further personal contact.

  I pause with my finger hovering by the call button. It’s not a reality I personally believe but the possibility of Veronica lying to me is a reality whether I like it or not. I know about as much about Veronica as I do about my daughter — but that was the whole point, wasn’t it?

  Simple and meaningless.

  I turn my phone face up again and read the address Veronica sent me. That neighborhood isn’t too far from here, though I’m not sure whether or not it’s absolutely safe to raise a child in.

  Questionable reality or not, I still care about Veronica. She was a friend to me in a dark time of my life and an even better one in my hotel suite over the last few years. Friends help friends out, right? No negative legal ramifications with that, right?

  I twist around and beeline for the front desk.

  Rian gives me a nod as I round the desk. “Yes, Ms. Hampton,” he says into the phone. “You are now booked through the 23rd. ... Yes... Good day to you, too.” He hangs up and looks me up and down. “Hey, Ira,” he greets with a smirk. “You’re looking tired this morning.”

  I squint with a spike of annoyance. “I’m taking a personal day and won’t be on site for the time being.”

  He straightens up. “Wait. Really?”

  “You have my cell number if something comes up,” I say.

  His mouth sags. “But you don’t take personal days.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Well, I’m taking one today. Something came up that I need to take care of.”

  Rian’s face screws up. “But you don’t have somethings. Since when do you have somethings?”

  “Rian—”

  “Is this about Towel Girl?” he asks, his smirk returning.

  I exhale hard. “Who told you about that?”

  “Doc.”

  “Even Doc knows about her?” I ask.

  He chuckles. “Doc knows everything about all things.”

  I groan to myself. “If a
nyone asks, just tell them I’m out for the day. Phone’s on. Okay?”

  “Alrighty.”

  I pass around him into the back offices and slip down the stairs into the parking garage.

  Hopefully, this sudden change in my work schedule doesn’t spread through the staff like…

  I pause by my car and sigh.

  … like all the dirt they get from me about everyone else.

  Wow. So, this is what that feels like.

  Five

  Veronica

  I throw on my jacket and scan my reflection in the bathroom mirror one more time. “I’ll only be gone a few hours, okay?” I say through the doorway. “Should be back by lunch.”

  A giggle travels from across the room. I poke my head out into the suite to find Derrick sitting on the floor, his legs stretched out long with Michelle lying on his knees. He takes her hands and guides her up into a sitting position before slowly rolling her back down, prompting a giggle from her every single time.

  “Okay, we’ll be here,” he says, making a funny face.

  “If I’m not back in time, I pumped this morning so there’s some extra milk in the cooler,” I say, cringing. “Not much more, unfortunately...”

  He sticks out his tongue and laughs as she does. “That’s all right.” He finally looks up and scolds my expression. “Stop that.”

  I sigh. “I know. I know.”

  “Beating yourself up about it is bad for you. And her.”

  “You’re right. It’s just that the free stuff would go a long way at the moment.”

  Derrick shrugs. “Well, you know what I always say. Breastfeeding is only free if you believe a woman’s time is worthless.”

  I tilt my head and smile. “Why are you still single again?” I ask.

  “I don’t know,” he muses. “Probably because women tend to nope out the second they discover that I spend my days raising other women’s kids.”

  “That sounds a little sexist.”

  “That’s because it is.”

  “Eh. Their loss.” I step toward them. “Raise her up, please.”

  He holds Michelle by the waist and lifts her up as I lean down. I kiss her head, taking a deep whiff of her perfect scent, and exaggerate a goofy smile for her.

  “Mommy will be back soon,” I say. “I love you.”

  Derrick rests her back onto his knees and forces her arm to wave at me. “Bye-bye, Mommy,” he says, pitching his voice.

  “Derrick, you know I hate that,” I say, wincing.

  “Aww, Mommy,” he continues. “Don’t scold the nanny. He’s the best nanny ever!”

  I chuckle. “Quit it.”

  He clears his throat. “Yeah, that hurts to do anyway. Oh, hey. Before you go. What should I do if your baby daddy shows up while you’re gone?”

  “Uh...” I deflate. “God, I don’t know.”

  “He said he would, right?”

  “Kind of. Yeah.”

  “You don’t think he will?” he asks.

  “I think...” I sigh. “I think he’s Ira Botsford and has probably never missed a day of work in his life and probably won’t now.”

  “Not even for her?”

  I pause, my eyes falling to Michelle still sprawled out along his legs. “Well, if he does, consider it a victory and have him call me. If he doesn’t, consider it a Wednesday.”

  Derrick nods. “Okay. Have fun.”

  I grab my purse from the closet. “I’ll be back soon and you can help me pick out swatches.”

  “Yeah...” He squints. “Color coordinating isn’t really my thing...”

  I tilt my head and he nods.

  “But we’ll try!” he adds. “Won’t we, Michelle?”

  He waves her little hand again and I laugh as I walk out the door.

  * * *

  “Turn right at the next street.”

  It kind of sucks having to rely on GPS to make your way home but that just about sums up my life at the moment.

  Panicked, directionless.

  New beginnings. That’s my new thing.

  I take a deep breath. Soon, all of this will be familiar. I’ll have a brand-new routine at a brand-new job. I’ll come home every night to my brand-new home where my daughter and I can live without a care in the—

  Who the hell is that?

  I hit the brakes, prompting the truck behind me to slam on his horn. I wince and turn off onto the shoulder, annoyingly parking in front of someone else’s driveway.

  “Sorry!” I shout into the closed window.

  The truck passes on and I look down the street again. I check my phone, making sure I got the address right. The house number is correct. The photo matches up. And yet...

  My very empty, move-in ready house has two — make that three — vans parked in the driveway. The front door is wide-open and I can clearly see men wandering in and out of the foyer.

  What the hell?

  I shift into drive again and park in front of the house.

  “You have arrived at your—”

  “Ah!” I silence the speakers, jerking in surprise. “Stupid robot.”

  I sit for another minute, watching the men walking around inside. Two of the vans have a company logo painted on the side but it’s so old and scratched I can barely make it out.

  “Ugh,” I mutter to myself as I push open my car down and step outside.

  I walk across the lawn to the open front door and slow to a snail’s pace as I inch forward. A few men quickly pass through the foyer ahead of me, each holding what looks to be electronic equipment and chatting loudly back and forth.

  “Hello?” I ask, too low for them to hear. “Hello?”

  One of them pauses by the dining room entrance. “Hi,” he says.

  “Hi. What are you doing here?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “Ask the boss.”

  “Who’s your—”

  He continues on with the others, leaving me alone and quite frankly a little pissed off.

  “— boss?” I exhale hard.

  Heavy shoes bound in from the hallway and my spine erupts in goosebumps as I lock onto a familiar man — the only one here in a business suit instead of a t-shirt and jeans.

  Ira.

  “One in the entryway, one in the sitting room, and two in the kitchen,” he says to the man walking with him. “I don’t like that dark corner. I want it lit.”

  “Ira!” I say, turning up my hands in confusion.

  He pauses and looks at me. “Oh, hey, Veronica,” he says before turning back to the other guy. He gestures at the small, fresh hole in my wall by the front door. “Yeah, that works, Bill. Let’s get it hooked up.”

  The man beside him, Bill, I presume, nods. “All right. We’ll get it done.”

  “Thanks.” Ira shifts back to me as Bill walks away. “What are you doing here?” he asks me.

  I sputter a few vowels. “This is my house. What are you doing here?”

  “I told you I would check it out,” he says with a shrug.

  “Uh, yeah. I figured you’d Google it or something. Who are these people and what are they doing in my house?”

  Ira laughs. “Calm down, V. I hired them.”

  “For what?”

  “To install your security system.”

  “My security system?” I repeat.

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t have a security system.”

  “You do now.”

  A ladder hits the floor to my left and I jolt out of the way. A man climbs up with a camera mount in his hands and I gasp at the sleek, obviously expensive, hardware.

  “Ira,” I say. “No.”

  He gently takes my elbow and guides me away from the very important men at work. “Veronica,” he says. “Yes.”

  “Ira... I really appreciate this, I do, but I don’t have the money for this kind of thing.”

  “I do.”

  “Good for you. But I didn’t ask you for this.”

  “And you should never have to ask me to take c
are of you and my daughter,” he says.

  My breath catches at his strong tone. “Okay, but—”

  “It’s done, Veronica. Bought and paid for. I’ll sleep better knowing you two are sleeping behind a heavily-locked, alarmed door with motion-activated cameras in every corner. All right?”

  I nod slowly. “You know, a dog would have been fine, but... thank you. I really do appreciate this.”

  He smiles. “So, what are you doing here again?”

  “Oh, I just...” I gesture at the walls. “I came to do a wall count. Planning on painting before the movers come.”

  “The whole house?”

  I nod. “The bedrooms, at least.”

  “By yourself?”

  “I can handle it.”

  “You thought you could paint all of this by yourself by the weekend?”

  I glare at him. “I thought I’d give it a try, yes.”

  Ira makes a low, purposeful hum. “Okay, then.”

  My eyes roll. “But I’d appreciate the help if you’re available.”

  His smirk rises. “I’d be happy to help! Let’s go count some walls.”

  He twists around and marches off into the dining room with a bit too much swagger in his stride.

  I follow behind him, leaving ample space between us as we pass through the dining room toward the hallway. Strangers walk by me, some barely bothering to acknowledge me but maybe they’re just dedicated. If Ira is as protective as he seems, I highly doubt he’d allow a bunch of untrustworthy people to wander around this house.

  We reach the master bedroom at the end of the hallway. Ira opens the door wide and shifts to the side, gracefully waving his arm. “After you,” he says.

  I can’t stop the smile on my face. “Thank you.”

  As I pass him, he offers me his clipboard and pen. “To keep track,” he says.

  I take it from him and enter the bedroom, instantly looking upward for cameras.

  “None in here,” Ira says, watching me. “Or the bathrooms. Figured I’d let you decide if you wanted a camera…” He gestures around, “you know.”

  “Where I sleep?” I ask.

  “Or get undressed. Or…” His shoulders bounce. “You know. Other things.”

  I laugh. “Well, once again, I appreciate your consideration.”

  “What are friends for?” he asks.

  He smiles. There go my knees again.