Sarah M. Anderson - Seduction On His Terms

“Dr. Wyatt, it’s so good to see you, as always,” the man said, smiling in a way Robert didn’t trust. “I’m sorry there’s a problem. How can I correct things?”

Robert was running out of patience. “Who are you?”

“Julian Simmons.” He said it in a way that made it clear Robert was supposed to remember who he was. “I own Trenton’s. You’re one of our most valued customers, so if there’s a problem, I’m sure we can—”

Robert cut the man off. “Where’s Jeannie?”

Robert couldn’t tell in the dim light, but he thought Simmons might have gone a shade whiter. “Jeannie is taking some personal time.”

Only a fool would think personal time and vacation time were the same thing. Robert was many things, but foolish wasn’t one of them. “Is she all right?”

Simmons didn’t answer for another long beat.

Something had happened; Robert knew it. Helplessness collided with an ever-increasing anger. He was not going to stand by while another woman was hurt. Not when he had the power to stop it.

“Jeannie is fine,” Simmons finally said. “We’re hopeful that she will rejoin us in a few weeks. I know she’s your personal favorite, but Miranda is more than happy to serve you.”

Both Miranda the substitute bartender and Simmons the restaurant owner recoiled before Robert realized he was snarling at them. “Tell me where she is. Now.”

“Dr. Wyatt, I’m sorry but—”

Before he was aware of what he was doing, Robert had reached across the bar and took hold of Simmons’s tie.

Robert could hear Landon Wyatt shouting, No one says no to a Wyatt , in his mind.

Or maybe he hadn’t heard the words. Maybe he’d said them out loud because Miranda squeaked in alarm.

“You,” he said to the woman, “can go .”

He didn’t have to tell her twice.

“Dr. Wyatt,” Simmons said. “This is all a misunderstanding.”

Belatedly, he realized he was probably not making the best argument. Abruptly, he released Simmons’s tie. Robert realized he had overlooked the path of least resistance. Instead of allowing his temper to get the better of him, he should’ve started from a different negotiating position.

“How much?”

“What?” Simmons winced.

“How much?” Robert repeated. “I have frightened you and your employees, which wasn’t my intent. I like coming here. I would like to return, once Jeannie is back in her position. I would like to...to make amends.”

Which was as close as possible to apologizing without actually apologizing because Wyatts did not apologize.

Ever.

Simmons stared at him, mouth agape.

“Shall we say...” Robert picked a number out of thin air. “Ten thousand?”

“Dollars?” Simmons gasped.

“Twenty thousand. Dollars,” he added for clarity’s sake. Everyone had a price, after all.

Jeannie was in trouble and he had to help her. But to do that, he had to know where she was. If Simmons refused to take the bribe, Robert had other ways of tracking her down, but those would take more time. Time was one commodity he couldn’t buy.

The buzzing in his head was so loud that it drowned out the hum of the restaurant. He gritted his teeth and blocked it out.

Simmons pulled his pocket square out and dabbed at his forehead. “Do you realize how many laws you’re asking me to break?”

“Do you realize how little I care?” Wyatt shot back.

When it came to things like abuse or murder, Wyatt knew and respected the law. When it came to things like this? Well, he was a Wyatt. Money talked.

Simmons knew it, too. “Do I have your word that you won’t hurt her?”

“I won’t even touch her.” Not unless she wants me to.

The thought crossed his mind before he was aware it was there, but he shook it away.

Simmons seemed to deflate. “There was a family emergency.”

The longer this man stood around hemming and hawing, the worse things could be for Jeannie. Belatedly, Robert realized he did not have twenty thousand dollars in cash on him. He placed a credit card on the bar. “Run it for whatever you want.”

After only a moment’s hesitation, Simmons took the card. “Let me get you the address, Dr. Wyatt.”

About damn time.

Three

Jeannie all but collapsed onto the concrete step in front of Nicole’s house, too numb to even weep.

No, that was wrong. This was her house now.

Nicole was dead.

And since there were no other living family members, Jeannie had inherited what Nicole had owned. Including their childhood home.

Everything left was hers now. The sensible used family sedan. The huge past-due bills to fertility clinics. The cost of burying her sister.

The baby.

It was too much.

Death was bad enough because it had taken Nicole, leaving Jeannie with nothing but wispy memories of a happy family. But who knew dying was so complicated? And expensive? Who knew unraveling a life would involve so much damned paperwork ?

That didn’t even account for Melissa. That baby girl was days old. It wasn’t right that she would never know her mother. It wasn’t right that the family Nicole had wanted for so long...

Jeannie scrubbed at her face. It wasn’t Melissa’s fault that delivery had been complicated or that Nicole had developed a blood clot that had gone undiagnosed until it was too late. Dimly, Jeannie knew she needed to sue the hospital. This wasn’t the 1800s. Women weren’t supposed to die giving birth. But Jeannie couldn’t face the prospect of more paperwork, of more responsibilities. She could barely face the next ten minutes.

She looked up at the sky, hoping to find a star to guide her. One little twinkling bit of hope. But this was Chicago. The city’s light pollution was brighter than any star, and all that was left was a blank sky with a reddish haze coloring everything. Including her world.

She was supposed to be at work. She was supposed to be fixing the perfect Manhattan for the perfect Dr. Robert Wyatt, the man whose tipping habits had made her feel financially secure for the first time in her life. A hundred bucks a night, five nights a week, for almost three years—Dr. Robert Wyatt had single-handedly given Jeannie the room to breathe. To dream of her own place, her own rules...

Of course, now that she had an infant to care for and a mortgage and bills to settle, she couldn’t breathe. She’d be lucky if her job at Trenton’s was still there when she was able to go back. If she would be able to go back. Julian might hold her job for another week or so, but Jeannie knew he wouldn’t hold it for two months. Because after an initial search of newborn childcare in Chicago, she knew that was what she’d need. Jeannie had found only day care that accepted six-week-old babies, but the price was so far out of reach that all she’d been able to do was laugh and close the browser. If she wanted childcare before Melissa was two months old, she needed a lot of money. And that was something she simply didn’t have. Even if she sued the hospital, put the house on the market, sold the family sedan—it still wouldn’t be enough fast enough.

Even though there were no stars to see, she stared hard at that red sky. This time she caught a flicker of light high overhead. It was probably just an airplane, but she couldn’t risk it. She closed her eyes and whispered to herself, “Star light, star bright, grant me the wish I wish tonight.”

She couldn’t wish Nicole back. She couldn’t undo any of the loss or the pain that had marked Jeannie’s life so far. Looking back was a trap, one she couldn’t get stuck in. She had no choice but to keep moving forward.

“I need help,” she whispered.