Tori Carrington - Private Sessions

Ari’s grin made a bouncing comeback. “I heard the baby’s heartbeat. It has to be the second-best thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“Second?”

“Elena’s soft sighs are the first.”

Bryna held up her hand palm out. “TMI.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Bry.”

They climbed the steps to the second floor of the old mill offices and walked down the narrow hallway. “Who says my mind’s in the gutter?”

She would. Ever since the meeting with Caleb.

“TMI includes mushy sweet moments, as well.”

“Ah, I get it.”

She walked through the open doorway to her office and then turned toward him. “Don’t you have some work to do?”

He slid his hands into the pockets of his khaki pants, his crisp, navy blazer draping back in a way that made him look as if he’d just stepped from a Calvin Klein ad.

He opened his mouth to say something and she closed her door in his face, staring at him through the glass.

He laughed and shook his head, continuing on down the hall toward his own office.

Bryna placed her briefcase on her desk, then opened the door again, looking up and down the hallway. She didn’t see one of the dozen people who worked there.

Good. She needed a few moments to herself to get her thoughts together.

And to scheme exactly how she was going to sneak a meeting with Caleb Payne again … one that might include indulging in the vivid fantasies that were forming in her mind at the mere idea of acting on the intense attraction that existed between them….

AS MUCH A LONER AS HE WAS, he hated eating alone.

Caleb lingered in his office after five o’clock that Friday, checking his watch and thinking about whom he could invite to dinner at such a late hour. Someone who wouldn’t expect anything beyond a good meal. He wasn’t up to anything more.

He had a couple of male colleagues he could call, but both were married. And while the thought of eating alone didn’t please him, less appealing was dining solo at a couple’s house. Especially a young couple convinced they were in love.

“Mr. Payne?”

His secretary opened the door after briefly knocking.

“I have the New York attorney for you on line one.”

Caleb looked at his watch. That would make it after 8:00 p.m. eastern time. Which was pretty much par for the course for their conversations. He didn’t hire anyone who wasn’t two hundred percent committed to their careers.

“Thank you, Nancy. Any word yet on Manolis?”

Philippidis had been avoiding his calls all day.

“No, sir. I’m still trying.”

“Thank you.”

She left the office, closing the door behind her. He turned his attention to the waiting call from his personal attorney.

How long had this case been dragging on? Two years? And the last time he checked, it was no closer to being resolved than when he originally brought the suit.

Of course, the unusual nature of his petition was partly responsible. Most courts didn’t know what to do with a thirty-two-year-old man’s request to force a DNA test. Especially when the parent in question was deceased.

“Harry,” Caleb said, picking up the extension.

“Caleb.”

He sat back in the chair and closed his eyes; he could tell by the sound of the attorney’s voice that this wasn’t going to be good.

“I’ve received an offer.”

He listened as an amount in the mid-seven digits was named.

“Are you still there?” Harry asked, reminding him that he had yet to respond.

“No.”

A slight pause and then, “No, you’re not there? Or, no, no deal?”

He sighed and sat up straighter. “This has never been about the money.”

Money he had. In spades. He’d made three times more than his father ever had by age thirty. And the Payne family was just as old and wealthy a New England clan as the Winsteads.

The thought brought his mother’s face to mind. As her only child, they’d always shared an especially close bond … drawn tighter, he suspected, by the details surrounding his birth.

He had yet to tell her he was pursuing this lawsuit; of course, that meant little—she was probably already well aware of what was going on. The upper one percent was like a small town with lots of acreage. Still, she had yet to say anything to him. He suspected she was waiting for him to come to her and allowing him to do what he needed to do.

The way he saw it, he was doing this as much for her as for himself. She’d sacrificed so much for him … surely he owed her at least the return of her good name.

“They’re anxious for you to let this go.”

Of course they were. The Winsteads didn’t want an illegitimate child to sully up the late, great Theodore Winstead’s good name.

He realized he was gritting his teeth and forced himself to stop.

“You don’t have to make a decision now. Sleep on it. I’ll call again on Monday.”

“No need,” Caleb said. “Refuse and go to the next step.”

“Will do.” Not even a hesitation.

Satisfied, he hung up the phone and sat back again, his every muscle coiled and tense.

He didn’t know how long he sat like that until there was another knock and Nancy appeared in the door.

“Any luck finding Philippidis?” he asked.

“No.”

He stared at her for minute. It was understood that when he was in the office she was to be present, as well. Unless she requested otherwise, or he dismissed her.

“These messages came in while you were on the phone.”

He rubbed his face, noting the stubble there. He’d use his en suite bathroom to shave and clean up before leaving.

He accepted the five slips of paper, leafing through them once, and then again, stopping on one in particular.

He held it up. “Is this her office number?”

“Her cell phone.”

Even better.

“Thanks, Nancy. That’ll be all. I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Very good, sir. Good night.”

Caleb rounded his desk, waiting until his secretary gathered her things and left the office before sitting down and picking up the phone, dialing the number on the slip.

She picked up on the second ring.

“Our meeting was interrupted the other day. I’d like to continue it.”

He waited for Bryna Metaxas to reply. “I’d like that,” she said, a low, groin-tightening purr in her voice. “Next week?”

“A half hour. At Giorgio’s.”

HALF AN HOUR wasn’t nearly enough time for a girl to put on her evening best. But when the invitation was accepted, she was bound by business etiquette to follow through.

But as the taxi pulled up to Giorgio’s forty minutes later, Bryna knew that business had nothing to do with agreeing to meet Caleb Payne at the upscale restaurant.

She adjusted the heel strap of the gold Grecian-style sandals that Ari had brought back from Santorini for her, paid the driver and stepped out, pleasantly surprised to find Caleb waiting for her outside the doors. She’d expected him to be ensconced in one of the plush booths enjoying a drink, possibly even having ordered already.

Instead he’d waited outside.

Every sensation she’d experienced during their meeting the other day returned … tenfold. She felt…. breathless, somehow. Like he was already touching her everywhere she wanted to be touched by him. and she was responding in a greedy, uninhibited way….

Over the past couple of days, she’d tried to convince herself she was overreacting to what had really happened, imagined that he had been attracted to her, shelved any sexual notions with a Post-it that read harmless flirtation.

But now she knew she hadn’t amplified anything…. if anything, she’d downplayed it.

She walked in his direction, watching him watch her. Despite her business argument, she was dressed for sheer pleasure. There was nothing innocent about her choice of little black dress. The clingy material was too intimate, her bare shoulder moist with lotion and perfumed, her hair down from her usual twist and finger-curled around her face.