BEVERLY BARTON - Her Secret Weapon

“Is that how all your affairs end?” she asked. “You and the lady become only friends?”

“Are you saying that you haven’t remained friends with your ex-lovers?” Burke grinned broadly.

“I’m afraid my experience doesn’t equal yours. I’ve had two lovers. My former fiancé, who is definitely not a friend, and my son’s father.”

“I don’t mean to pry into your personal life, but I’ve wondered about your child’s father. Does he take any responsibility for his son? Does he give you any type of financial support?”

Okay, you asked for this, Callie thought. You deliberately put yourself in this position. So what are you going to do now? Lie?

“No. He—he doesn’t. But I’ve never asked anything of him. I’m afraid it’s an awkward situation and I don’t know how to—”

“Is he married?”

“Mercy, no! I’d never become involved with a married man.”

“Then if he isn’t married, why haven’t you demanded that he take responsibility for his son? No man should father a child and then abandon him.”

Callie understood Burke’s vehement reaction because she knew his history with his biological father. Burke Lonigan was the type of man who would take responsibility. But she had never given him the opportunity. Dear God, how would he feel and what would he think of her when she told him. No, not when, if. If she told him.

“I’m not sure that my son’s father is someone I want to be a part of his life. I’m uncertain about his ability to be a suitable father.”

“You didn’t tell this man about his child?” Burke’s eyes narrowed into slits, his expression accusatory.

“As I said before, it’s an awkward situation and rather complicated. I’d prefer not to discuss it anymore.”

Burke grasped her shoulder. “Is this man the reason you’re reluctant to have an affair with me? Did you love him? Did he hurt you terribly?”

How could she answer his questions? she wondered. Not with the complete truth. With lies, perhaps. Or maybe with half-truths. She wasn’t ready to be totally honest with Burke Lonigan. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

“I can’t talk about this with you.”

Burke glared at her speculatively. “Are you still in love with your child’s father? Is that the problem? You’re sexually attracted to me, but you love another man?”

Callie couldn’t restrain the bubble of laughter that formed in her throat and escaped from her lips. “I’m sorry.”

“What’s so funny?” he asked. “I fail to find any humor in what I asked you.”

“Do you always find it so difficult to accept a refusal from a woman? Do you always cross-examine her and try to find hidden motives for her rejection?”

“A refusal?” His eyebrows lifted in mock surprise. “I don’t think I heard you refuse.”

“Burke, I like you. I like working with you. And yes, I’m very attracted to you. But I can’t just have an affair with you. I’m not, as my father would say, footloose and fancy-free. I’m a mother and my first responsibility is to my child.”

“Then you’re saying that you don’t want us to become lovers?”

We’ve already been lovers, she wanted to shout. For one glorious, wildly passionate night, we were lovers. “I’m saying that I do not want to rush into a relationship that might end up hurting me and creating problems in my life.”

“Fair enough,” he said. “You take all the time you need, but you won’t fault me if I do everything in my power to persuade you.”

“You really don’t know how to take no for an answer, do you? What have you done in the past when a lady refused you?”

With a cocky grin, Burke shrugged. “It’s never happened. Would you believe me if I told you that you’re the first?”

Callie’s giggle turned into amused laughter. She nodded. “Yes, I’d believe you. You’re quite an irresistible man.”

He tugged her against him. With his lips only a hairbreadth away from hers, he said, “But you’re resisting me and you know that I find that resistance challenging. You want me to work for my reward, don’t you? That’s what this is all about.”

Callie pulled away from him, walked past him and halted at the door. “Maybe you’re right. The worthwhile things in life are usually more difficult to acquire.”

When Callie opened the door, Burke called after her, “Wait!”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Yes?”

“This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”

After a short walk from the High Street Kensington subway station, Callie rummaged in the side pocket of her shoulder bag to find her key. Her home was located on a quiet street with little traffic. After Seamus was born, Enid had insisted that they needed a larger place to live and had promptly acquired a three-bedroom town house in central London. Callie wasn’t sure what she would have done without her cousin, who was not only her dearest friend, but also Seamus’s godmother. During the months she hadn’t worked after Seamus’s birth, Enid had generously supported them.

“What’s the good of having a sizable trust fund if I can’t spend it on something as worthwhile as a new mother and her baby?” Enid had asked.

Just as Callie started to unlock the latch, the door swung open. Enid stood there with a screaming Seamus on her hip.

“Thank God, you didn’t work late tonight.” Enid thrust Seamus into Callie’s arms. “He must be teething or something. He’s been wailing like that for half an hour. I rubbed that nasty-tasting gel on his gums, but that didn’t seem to help.”

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Callie dropped her bag onto the floor in the living room, which, along with the dining room and kitchen, comprised the ground floor of the three-story house. “Have you been a bad boy for Aunt Enid?”

“Oh, he’s never a bad boy,” Enid said. “He’s just very loud when he’s in a bad mood.”

Holding Seamus on her hip, Callie eased one arm through the sleeve of her coat, switched her baby to the other hip and finished removing it. After draping the tan wool coat on the back of the sofa, she sat in the rocking chair by the door that opened onto the courtyard their home shared with four other houses. A fish pond and fountain decorated the terrace.

As Callie rocked, talking nonsensical words to Seamus, he quieted and cuddled against her. She smoothed the damp strands of his curly black hair, as silky and dark as his father’s. When he gazed at her with Burke’s brilliant blue eyes and said, “Hi, Mama,” she kissed both of his cheeks and hugged him to her.

“I fed Seamus about an hour ago,” Enid said. “He seemed hungry and ate quite well.”

“Thank you.” Callie glanced at her cousin and realized she was dressed for the evening. “Are you going out?”

“Some of us are going on a pub crawl,” Enid said. “We’re meeting at Riki Tik in about an hour. If the night turns out as I hope, I won’t be home till morning.” Enid’s little-girl giggle was in direct contrast to her very adult body. “Some night you should ask Mrs. Goodhope to stay so you can go with us. It’s time you—”

“Burke asked me to have an affair with him.”

“What!”

“Today. He kissed me, told me that he wanted us to become lovers and—”

“Did he say that he remembers you?” With her eyes wide and her hands waving excitedly, Enid rushed toward Callie. “Does he or does he not admit that he remembers the night you two first met?”

Callie shook her head. “He doesn’t remember. And I’ve told you that I truly believe he has no recollection of it. For some reason he has blotted out that night. Maybe because of the association with his father’s death. Or maybe because he allowed a woman to see him weak and vulnerable.”

“I have my doubts about his convenient loss of memory,” Enid said. “If he was so plastered that he has no memory of that night, I don’t see how he was able to perform. Heavy drinking usually leaves a man not fully charged.”

“Maybe other men.”

“Oh, please! You act as if no man on earth could compare to Burke Lonigan as a lover.” Enid huffed. “And what did you have to compare him to anyway? Laurence Wynthrope! That nancy boy!”

“Laurence might not have been the most masculine man in the world, but he wasn’t—”

“Admit it—he was a lousy lover and a real bastard. But at least he didn’t leave you pregnant. Which is exactly what Burke Lonigan did.”

Seamus let out a loud yelp. Callie soothed him with a few silly words that soon had him laughing. She cast a sharp glance at her cousin.

“We’ve discussed this a hundred times and I’ve told you repeatedly that what happened wasn’t Burke’s fault. It was mine. I was sober and—”

“So tell the man what he doesn’t remember and introduce him to his son.”

“I can’t do that. Not yet.”

“Oh, dear. Do you really think those rumors about him being an illegal arms dealer are true?” Enid asked.

“I have no proof one way or the other, but if Burke is a criminal, then how can I allow him to become a part of Seamus’s life?”

“So, what did you say to him when he told you that he wanted to be your lover?”

“I said that I wasn’t ready for an affair.”

“And he accepted your refusal?”

“He accepted the fact that getting me into bed won’t be as easy as he’d hoped it would be.”

“At least not this time,” Enid said smugly.

Burke poured himself a snifter of brandy, then sat in the leather wing chair in front of the roaring fire in the living room. He had lived the good life for many years now, enjoying the trappings of wealth, privilege and power afforded him by his disguise as a legitimate businessman.

Recently Burke had begun to wonder if this was all there would ever be to his life. He was forty-two, no longer a young buck eager for danger and excitement. Occasionally the thought of retiring crossed his mind, but then he’d ask himself a critical question. Retire and do what? He had become a SPEAR agent shortly after college graduation and had never once regretted that decision. So why was he suddenly so disillusioned by it all?

Because he was getting old? Because he didn’t want to wake up at fifty and still be alone? There were at least a dozen suitable women who would gladly become Mrs. Lonigan. But not a one of those lovely ladies was the woman with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life.

What about Callie Severin? an inner voice asked.

“Yes, what about Callie Severin?” he repeated.

The chemistry between them was undeniable. Every time they were together, sparks ignited. And the fact that she was being coy with him, making him wait for her favors, made him want her all the more. But was her reluctance genuine or just a game she played to whet his appetite? If he made love to her, would that satisfy him?

Burke swirled the brandy in the glass, then lifted it to his lips and sipped the aged liquor. He closed his eyes and relaxed. Unbidden memories floated through his mind. A faceless woman. The musty scent of two bodies mating mingled with the heady scent of flowers. A lush, loving body lying beneath him. A sweet, soft voice whispering his name.

He became aroused. For nearly two years she had haunted him. He had tried—unsuccessfully—to forget her and their time together. He’d been a complete mess that night. Plastered. Self-pitying. Pathetic. And desperately in need of comfort.

She had comforted him. Loved him selflessly. Given herself to him with abandon. He could remember the feel of her, the scent of her and even the taste of her. But his mind refused to remember her face. Or her name, if he’d ever known her name.