she would meet with Christian Hanford, get to the bottom of this and then decide what to do about it.
But before she could do that, she had to clear her appointments for the day. She had no idea how long this meeting with Christian Hanford was going to take—or if she’d be in any kind of mood to deal with business once their meeting was over. She hit a button on her phone. Her assistant, Monica, opened the office door an instant later. Her blue eyes sparkling, she asked, “What’s up with Mr. Gorgeous?”
Erica sighed. Monica was more friend than assistant. They’d bonded shortly after Erica had come to work for B&B nearly a year ago. The two of them were the youngest employees in the company and they’d forged a friendly working relationship that had resulted in lots of after-business drinks and dinners. But today, Erica was feeling too jumbled to enjoy her friend’s teasing.
“I have no idea.”
Monica’s smile faded. “Hey, are you okay?”
“I’ll let you know later,” she said, sitting down at her desk again. “For now, I need you to cancel today’s meetings. I’ve got something important to take care of.”
“That won’t be difficult. When do you want everything rescheduled?”
“Work everyone in as quickly as possible,” Erica told her. “We’ll just double up a little and stay late if we have to.”
“Okay,” Monica said. “This does sound important. Is everything all right?”
“Honestly, I don’t know.” The unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach kept warning her that things were about to get very weird.
And there wasn’t a thing she could do to avoid it.
Christian was waiting for her when Erica came down the elevator and crossed the lobby of the office building. Something inside him stirred at the sight of her. He’d felt it earlier, too. The moment he’d looked into her whiskey-brown eyes, Christian had known that this woman was going to be trouble.
He didn’t do trouble. Not for years, now. He had exactly what he’d spent most of his life working toward. A position of respect and more money than he could spend in two lifetimes. He hadn’t worked his ass off for years to get where he was just to let it all go because his body had reacted to the wrong woman.
And Erica Prentice was definitely off-limits to him.
Not only was she the illegitimate daughter of his long-time employer … there was also the fact that any “fraternization” with members of the Jarrod family could see him lose the job he valued so much.
Hadn’t ever been an issue for him before this. Melissa Jarrod was a sweetheart, but she’d never interested him. But he had the distinct feeling that Erica Prentice was going to be a different matter altogether.
As she crossed the glossy floor, his gaze took in everything about her. Shoulder-length light brown hair, soft and touchable. Smooth, pale skin, amber eyes and a mouth that had a tendency to quirk to one side as if she were trying to decide whether to smile or not. She was short, but curvy, the kind of woman that made a man want to sweep her up and pull her in close. Not that he had any intention of doing anything like that.
Her eyes met his and Christian told himself to take care of business and get back to the jet waiting for him at the airport. Safer all around if he concluded this trip as quickly as possible.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said as she joined him.
“No problem.” Of course the fact that he wanted to take her hand again just for an excuse to touch her might be looked on as a problem. Shaking his head to dislodge that thought, he said, “Look, I saw a café just down the street. Why don’t we go have some lunch and get this situation taken care of?”
“Fine.” She headed for the glass doors and walked outside when they swished open automatically. She stopped on the sidewalk and pushed her hair out of her eyes when a cold San Francisco wind tossed it into the air. Looking up at him, she asked, “Tell me this much first. Are you about to make me happy? Or is this going to screw up my world?”
Christian looked down into eyes shining with trepidation. “To tell the truth, maybe a little of both.”
“You must be crazy,” Erica said fifteen minutes later.
The outdoor Italian café sat at the corner of a busy intersection in downtown San Francisco. Only a few of the dozen small round tables covered in bloodred tablecloths were occupied by people stopping for an early lunch. Inside the restaurant there were less hardy souls, diners not wanting to deal with the capricious wind. Fabrizio’s was one of Erica’s favorite places, but now she was sure this visit was going to forever take the shine off the restaurant for her.
Staring across the table at the man who watched her through steady eyes, she repeated what she’d said only moments before. “You’re wrong. This is crazy. I am not Donald Jarrod’s illegitimate heir.”
Their waiter came up to the table just as she finished speaking and Erica felt heat rush up her neck and fill her cheeks. She only hoped the man hadn’t heard her. That would be perfect. She was known here. People would talk. Speculate.
They would anyway, she realized. The Jarrod family, much like the Prentice family, was big news. Even if this wasn’t true—which, she assured herself silently, it wasn’t—word would get out and soon Erica would be the subject of tabloid gossip and whispered innuendos from those she knew.
She could just imagine the reactions from her father and stepmother, Angela. Walter Prentice loathed scandal. He’d raised his children to believe that family business was private and that getting one’s name in the paper was not something to be desired. Now, Erica thought, ancient dirty laundry would be spread out for the world to read about and enjoy and she and her family would be the punch line to mean-spirited jokes told at cocktail parties.
Oh, God, this just couldn’t be happening.
“Iced tea for the lady,” the waiter was saying as he divested his tray of drinks, “and coffee for the gentleman. Have you decided on lunch?”
“No,” Christian said. “We need a few minutes.”
“Take your time,” the young man told him, then gave them each a smile and left them alone with their menus.
Erica didn’t even glance at hers. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be hungry again. She grabbed her tea, took a long drink to ease the dryness in her throat and then set the glass down. Keeping her voice low enough that Christian was forced to lean across the table to hear her over the discordant hum of traffic, she said, “I don’t know what this is about, or what you’re up to, but …”
“If you’ll hear me out, I’ll try to explain.”
He looked as if he wished he were anywhere but there and Erica knew exactly how he felt. She wanted nothing more than to jump up, vault over the iron railing separating the café tables from the sidewalk and disappear into the crowds. But since that wasn’t going to happen, she told herself to remain calm and listen to him. Once he was finished saying his piece, she’d simply walk away and
