if any of it would come to fruition. Likely the DNA test and its resultant emotional fall out would determine Tarrant’s order one way or the other.
Did she regret what she’d done?
A little. She had a strange sense of having unleashed a genie. Exciting but scary.
Amado’s dark eyes still shone with desire. No doubt her own did, too.
Desire wasn’t something you could control. You could choose not to act on it, but you couldn’t make it go away.
If you did act on it, you could end up like Tarrant Hardcastle with a host of unplanned children and a lifetime of complications.
Misgivings tightened her muscles. She had a strange feeling she’d never forget her night with Amado. How would she feel now, alone in her bed, tormented by memories of intimacy and passion she could never have imagined?
At the security check-in, he held her face between his hands and kissed her full on the mouth. Arousal kicked through her as his tongue danced with hers right there in line at the ticket counter, surrounded by the swirling, impatient crowds.
Don’t think you’ll get off so easy, his kiss seemed to say.
Her mouth throbbed as he pulled back. Her stomach clenched and she wobbled on her heels.
Triumph glittered in Amado’s eyes. Then he frowned. “You’ll call me with the results?”
A cool shiver crept down her spine. “I suspect someone from Tarrant’s office will call you. I don’t usually have anything to do with his private business. I’m just here as an envoy.”
“An envoy of distressing news. You’re brave.”
“Or desperate to keep my job.” She attempted levity. “You can’t say no to Tarrant Hardcastle. But I doubt they’ll even tell me the results.”
Amado’s frown deepened. “I’ll tell you.”
That reassurance of future contact made her heart swell. The thought of just…leaving and never seeing him again was too grim to contemplate.
She was sure he’d call her to laugh and joke if the result was what he hoped for.
But if it wasn’t?
Susannah pretended to fumble with her ticket as Amado turned and strode away. She couldn’t help turning to catch a last glimpse of him as he disappeared through the door.
So tall and proud and strong, his passion evident in everything he did. His connection to the estate and his family so deep as to be unquestionable.
She chewed a manicured fingernail and hoped like hell that Tarrant was wrong.
Susannah’s heart thundered as she climbed the wide, polished stairs to the El Cubano cigar bar on Manhattan’s Fifth Avenue. One week had passed since her return from Argentina, and Tarrant Hardcastle had summoned her to his exclusive watering hole to thank her for retrieving—his word—Amado’s DNA.
She had no idea what the results were. But would he ask her here if the trip had been a waste of time?
She gave her coat to the stunning coat-check girl and followed the maître d’ into the hushed space. The lack of cigar smoke surprised her, since men sat all around, sunk deep into leather chairs, with expensive bundles of rolled leaves burning in their hands.
On the far side of the room they reached the imposing backs of a pair of chairs arranged in front of a window. The leather thrones enjoyed a spectacular view over Fifth Avenue.
“Mr. Hardcastle, your guest has arrived.”
Susannah sucked in a smoke-free breath as her boss rose and greeted her. Even rows of white teeth shone in his tanned face.
He was disturbingly youthful-looking for sixty-seven, in a way that could not be entirely natural.
Everything about the man was frightening.
She tried not to wince or fall over as he kissed her on both cheeks. An extravagant gesture of greeting for a boss she barely saw.
“Thank you, my dear.” His blue-green eyes glittered with emotion.
Uh-oh.
“Thank you for finding my son.”
Susannah’s mouth fell open and her stomach plummeted.
“He is your son?” she rasped.
“Ninety-nine-point-nine percent certain. It doesn’t get more definite than that.” He gestured at the plush leather armchair opposite his. “Sit.”
Susannah practically fell into it.
Tarrant summoned a waiter with a wave of his hand.
“Tell me about him, my dear. My son, what is he like?” A beaming smile lit his tanned face as he settled back into his chair.
Amado isn’t the son of Ignacio Alvarez. His mother had an affair.
The reality of the situation chilled her blood. How had Amado reacted? How had his parents reacted? He hadn’t called her with the news, as he’d promised.
“He’s nice,” she stammered. “Very smart.”
Tarrant waved his hand impatiently. “Does he look like me?”
Susannah frowned. “You both have strong features. I can see a resemblance around the nose and cheekbones. He’s darker, though, with dark eyes and hair.”
Tarrant smiled. “Like my son Dominic. I never could resist the allure of a dark young beauty, back then.”
Susannah tried not to recoil. Tarrant’s steady gaze made her uncomfortably conscious of her own dark coloring. She so did not want to think about Tarrant’s sexual exploits of thirty-odd years ago.
It was downright hard to imagine Clara Alvarez being a beauty, dark or otherwise. Didn’t she have blue eyes like Tarrant?
“His mother was such a stunner. Sharp as a cracked whip and with a fire that…” He blew out a breath and shook his head.
“Clara is well and healthy, too.”
“Clara?” Tarrant sipped a clear drink. Martini probably. “Who’s that?”
“Amado’s mother.”
Tarrant put his drink down. “Amado’s mother is dead.”
A chill crept up her spine. “But I met her.”
“Hardly. I was called to identify the body.”
Susannah swallowed hard. Her blood seemed to stop flowing. “But he called her ‘mother.’”
“I don’t know who the heck Clara is, but his real mother was Marisa Alvarez and she died giving birth to her son.”
