Kidnapping the Billionaire's Baby (A BWWM Romantic Suspense) Page 9

  Still, that wasn’t why she was here. She wasn’t there to impress anyone, and she certainly wasn’t there for anything other than business. Quint made that much clear in his call. His tone was cold and reserved, as if he’d never talked to her in his life. There was pain under his words, but it was to be expected after a trial like the one he’d endured.

  She returned her gaze to him, and as if on cue, he looked up from the menu and saw her. She was close enough to catch the slight hike in his brow and the brief smile on his lips before it disappeared as quickly as it had come.

  The maitre’d pulled out her chair, and she took her seat, tilting her head slightly as she placed her small handbag on the table.

  Quint straightened up awkwardly, lacking the grace and strength he normally radiated. Amara thought he probably should have still been in a hospital bed.

  “Thank you for coming,” he said. “I was worried you might decline my invitation.”

  “Of course I came. I was so glad to hear that you’d made it out of that terrible crash alive, but are you sure you need to be here right now? You’re not yet yourself, if you don’t mind my —”

  The small flicker of light that seemed to come to his eyes when he saw Amara faded quickly, and he shook his head. “You didn’t bring him.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  SHE WAS TAKEN ABACK, KNOWING exactly who Quint meant by “him.”

  “Hampton. My son,” Quint clarified unnecessarily. “You didn’t bring him. I admit I didn’t actually think you would, but a small part of me hoped you would anyway.”

  Amara shuddered involuntarily and swallowed hard past a lump that had formed in her throat. “No. I didn’t think the other patrons would appreciate a fussy infant interrupting their meal. I left him with my mother.”

  “Yes. I imagined as much. And there were likely other reasons I can imagine.”

  They stared at one another, Amara contemplating what to say, this time unsure of what he meant. A waiter appeared at their table, his timing perfect for breaking up the uncomfortable silence. Quint ordered wine and sent the man away.

  “I’ve seen news stories of your ordeal,” Amara said quickly. “I haven’t known what to believe. What happened to you?”

  “It’s a long story. And it’s not one I feel up to sharing. Not tonight. I’m sorry.”

  “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I was just … I was worried about you.”

  “I appreciate your concern,” he said.

  God, Amara thought. He was so cold, so detached. The only time there had been any life in his voice was when he said Hampton’s name, when he said “my son.” She took a sip of water to calm her nerves. Quint’s gaze stayed on her all the while.

  She kept quiet, resisting the urge to babble to break up the tension.

  Finally, he spoke, and as was his way, he didn’t bother with preliminaries. “You know why I’ve called you here. It’s not for my sake, or to be doted upon. You and I have some unfinished business, and I thought it would be best to meet you somewhere in public.”

  That wasn’t good, Amara thought. People chose public meeting places to avoid scenes. Why would he think she’d make a scene?

  Quint paused for a long moment, drawing a shaking breath, and delivered his demand. “I want my son.”

  Quint was usually a man of tact — a kind man, too. He had to know things weren’t simple anymore. She’d been Hampton’s mother all this time.

  She couldn’t just stop being his mother because of a contract she’d signed when she had no idea what being a mother would mean. Surely he knew how impossible it would be for her to let Hampton go, but he didn’t appear concerned about her feelings.

  Amara clenched her hands together under the table. “I’m sorry, Quint. I know that what you went through must have been horrible, but you weren’t here. You were supposed to come get Hampton right away. It’s been three months, and I’ve been raising him. He’s my baby now. My baby.”

  “Our contract says differently.”

  It was suddenly hard to breathe. Where had all the air gone in the fancy room? “Bullshit,” she gasped. “You can’t expect me to give him up like that. I thought you might …” She trailed away, heaving a heavy sigh, her gaze falling on the sparkling crystal water goblet.

  The waiter arrived bearing glasses and a bottle of wine. Amara’s mind whirled, and she took advantage of the time spent on uncorking the bottle, tasting and serving the wine, to try to get her emotions under some control.

  After the waiter left, Quint briefly told her that he’d already ordered their meal, the main course being some dish you had to order hours in advance. He said he hoped she didn’t mind his presumption. Mind? About food? When her child was in danger of being taken from her? Who gave a damn about food?

  She shrugged in response. She didn’t care.

  Quint fell back into silence then, watching her, probably formulating his strategy, waiting for the perfect moment to leap on his prey. No, that was unfair, she told herself. But still. How was she supposed to win a negotiation with a man who’d gotten the better of deals with the finest business minds in the world?

  She refused to raise her head and look at him. He’d have to make the first move. It was the only advantage she might get.

  Finally, Quint spoke. “Amara, I need you to listen to me and talk about this. I know it isn’t easy, but the fact is that we had a deal. You would carry my son, and I would fund your research. I know that the executor of my will has been funneling money to the organizations and people you indicated, so I’ve held up my end of the bargain and will gladly continue to do so in the future, per our agreement. Per our signed contract.”

  She didn’t like how he emphasized the word contract. She studied him, met his eyes again, was struck by how grayed the blue was, how deep the hollows were under his eyes. When she was walking up to the table, it had seemed a trick of the candlelight, but they were just as bad, if not worse, up close.

  And yet he was still a handsome, sexy man. It was as if the past two months of suffering had both softened and hardened him at the same time. It had carved something new out of his features. She was drawn to the dichotomy, the mystery he presented, now even more than in the past.

  What was he hiding behind those strained eyes?

  As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t be as outraged as she probably should be. He was injured, still in recovery, obviously. She bet he came out tonight against doctor’s orders. It would be like him.

  And it would be monstrous to take a hard-line stance with someone who’d already been through so much. Wouldn’t it?

  She sat up straight and willed her heart rate lower. “I know you’ve held up your end of the bargain, and I appreciate it. You have no idea how vital your assistance has been in every way. We may soon have a product ready for wider distribution.”

  “Good. I’m glad.”

  “And thanks to your efforts, I won the Carrington Award. Thank you.”

  “You deserve it,” he said. “You’re going to make a huge difference in millions of lives.”

  “No, we will make a difference.”

  He gave a half-nod of acquiescence.

  She continued. “I realize that my end of the bargain was to give you an heir. But I need you to understand how hard this is for me to even consider. I’ve spent the last three months knowing and loving my son. He’s become the light of my life, and I can hardly imagine a day without his smiling face.”

  Quint flinched.

  Amara considered that a good sign and hurried on. “I can’t even start to entertain the thought of letting him go now. There must be some other way to work this out. I mean, you have every right to see him — he’s as much your son as he is mine.” The weight of the words struck her as they left her lips, Raneesha’s sentiment echoing in her head.

  “My mother has been pushing and pushing for me to let Hampton’s father into his life.” She knew she was babbling now, but there was no restraining herself. “But
I haven’t known what to say with everything so up in the air. With you … gone … and all.”

  Quint’s expression had hardened as she spoke. “And now I’m back, so that should simplify things.”

  “And yet it doesn’t. It just makes it more complicated.”

  Quint inhaled deeply. She wondered if it was a calming technique. The coldness he’d been exhibiting was long gone.

  “That sounded bad, like I’m not happy you’re back. I am, of course. I know you would be … were going to be,” she said, “a great father. But Quint, I can’t bear the thought of being separated from Hampton. I can’t. It’s impossible.”

  “As I said, the solution is simple. I’ll take you both,” he said.

  Chapter Sixteen

  QUINT LEANED BACK AND GAZED at her steadily.

  Amara stared, slack-jawed. “What do you mean, you’ll take both of us?”

  “I said exactly what I meant.”

  He couldn’t be serious, she thought. “You mean, you want us to live with you? Me and Hampton?”

  “I think it would be best for Hampton if we got married. But we can live together first, for a while, if you’d like.”

  “That wasn’t any part of our deal.”

  “As you pointed out, the conditions of our deal were created before everything changed. We’ll have to be more creative now, in how we handle a difficult and emotionally charged situation.”

  “Do you think I’m going to marry you because you want your son, and I want to be with him? Listen, I don’t have a problem sharing custody, but what you’re talking about is crazy. We had our chance at that conference, and you blew it. You really blew it, and I think you know that — don’t you?”

  “Back then, yes. But I thought that you and I … I thought the situation had changed during your pregnancy. We were friends, were we not?”

  “Yes. Friends.” Nothing more than that, though, Amara thought. A tiny voice inside her squeaked that Amara had spent more than a few lonely nights imagining what it might be like to be more than friends with Quint. She squelched the unwelcome reminder.

  Quint raised a hand for one of the roaming waiters. The man leaned down to listen and gave a quick nod, rushing off to the back.

  “Amara, I know, you’re right. I can’t expect to appear again after being gone for so long and expect that things will be as they were, or as you pointed out, more than they were. It was presumptuous of me to suggest. I apologize.” A deep frown pulled hard at the corners of his lips, his eyes glistening in the candlelight.

  He didn’t look sorry, that was for sure. He looked pissed off, actually. And hurt? No, surely not. More likely, the hurt was the result of the pain he must still be suffering from his injuries.

  She reached across the table and placed a hand atop his, stroking softly. She ignored the ever-present buzz she always experienced when she touched him. “I’m so sorry, Quint.”

  He pulled his hand away and then appeared to steel his nerves, locking gazes with her. “I want to see my son. You can’t keep him from me. Maybe we can figure out a joint-custody situation, like you suggested. I don’t know.” The coldness and worry in his voice began to wane, giving Amara encouragement that he was coming to a better place, a place where he could truly hear what she was saying.

  “I don’t want to keep Hampton from you,” she said softly. “He’s your son, too. And you’ll be good for him, I’m certain. And I’m even more sure he’ll be good for you. He’s such a special baby, Quint. So beautiful and smart and inquisitive. You wouldn’t believe it.”

  “Tell me about him.”

  “Oh, don’t get me started. I’ll never shut up.”

  “Perfect,” he said.

  Amara picked up her purse and pulled out the envelope she’d placed inside it before she left her house. She pulled a photo out of the envelope and handed it to Quint. “This one was taken a few days ago. He was sleeping in his crib, and he looked so angelic I couldn’t resist getting a shot of it.”

  Quint reached to take the photo, his hand trembling slightly.

  She watched him get his first look at his son.

  The intensity on his face was near heart-breaking. His eyes moved rapidly over the picture as he took in every detail. He swallowed hard, and his eyes glistened with unshed tears.

  “And here,” she said, pulling out her phone.

  She found and cued up the short video she’d taken last week. “Hit play,” she said.

  Quint set down the picture as if it were a delicate, prized treasure. He took her phone and played the video.

  It was incredible watching him watch and hear his son. He smiled, truly smiled for the first time that night. The longer he watched, the more lit up he became.

  “He loves that rattle,” Amara said, smiling at the memory of the video. “He gets to shaking it, and the next thing you know he’s going wild, kicking his feet and waving his arms even faster. He loves making a racket. And that grin of his. I don’t know. We may have a musician on our hands, not a scientist or a business mogul like his parents.”

  Quint blinked back tears and laughed at his son’s antics. “That’d be okay,” Quint said, “as long as he’s happy. He’s got my eyes, but everything else … he looks like you.”

  Amara couldn’t miss the tenderness in his voice, and it warmed her heart.

  The video came to an end, and Quint pressed replay. The adorable sounds of the rattle-shaking baby restarted.

  Amara watched Quint watch Hampton for a while. If there’d ever been any doubt about Quint wanting a child, it was gone now.

  “We’ll work something out,” she said. “I can’t simply pretend our arrangement didn’t happen. I entered into that contract thinking I knew exactly what it meant. I didn’t have a clue, didn’t understand the first thing about what it meant to hold my child in my arms.”

  “I look forward to knowing what it means myself,” Quint said, glancing up from the phone. “I expect it to be the finest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  “You won’t be disappointed.”

  Quint watched the video to the end, and then handed the phone back to Amara. “You’d best take this. I suspect I’d be watching it all night if you don’t.”

  “I’ll forward it to you.”

  “Thank you.” He held up the photo. “Can I keep this?”

  “Yes. I printed that copy for you.”

  He carefully set it to one side, away from the wine and water glasses. “How has it been for you, taking care of him all alone?”

  “He’s a very easy-going baby. I’ve been lucky, also, because of my friend Kari and my mother. They’ve given me so much help.” She laughed lightly. “Sometimes they give me more help than I want, and I have to tell them to back off because I want to spend more time with my son.”

  “That’s likely to be the case even more, now, with me back in the picture.”

  Amara didn’t want to talk about that, not yet. “Hampton’s so curious about everything. You should see how he looks at things. It’s like he’s already analyzing, trying to figure out what it does.”

  “He would have gotten that from both of us, I imagine,” Quint said.

  “Momma says I was the same way when I was a baby. Did I tell you he’s already sleeping through the night? Well, mostly through the night.”

  He shook his head, his manner gently but raptly engaged with her tales.

  She burbled on about Hampton, finding the joy in having someone who equaled her endless fascination with her child, not having to worry that she was boring him to death. She ate only a few bites of the exquisite appetizer course when it was delivered, though she supposed it was delicious. Food was little more than a distraction from her storytelling.

  She paid more attention to the main course, however, which turned out to be a crispy duck affair with a sauce that must have been made by a team of magical sous chefs. She closed her eyes in bliss as she savored each bite, and couldn’t help but notice the fond way Quint watched her
.

  That fondness was dangerous, no doubt about it. Probably. Wasn’t it? She couldn’t remember why all of a sudden.

  Quint asked questions about the birth and any doctor visits they’d had since then. She was pleased to report Hampton’s perfect bill of health. He also asked about her, and how she was doing. He even went so far as to compliment her on her figure, which she loved hearing since she knew she still had quite a few pounds to knock off before she’d be back to her pre-pregnancy weight. She’d been working on it, though.

  The only bad news she had to give was that she’d had to stop nursing earlier than she’d planned, not that she’d actually made plans ahead of time, the situation being what it had been. Still, she was a quick study and had read dozens of books in the first few weeks of Hampton’s life.

  It had only been a little more than a week since she’d had to stop breastfeeding and put him exclusively on formula. The loss was still fresh, and it didn’t help that she felt like a failure for being unable to produce enough, frequently enough. The doctor assured her it just sometimes happened that way, and that she hadn’t done anything to cause it. But still, she blamed herself.

  Quint listened carefully as she told him everything. “I wish I’d been here. I could have brought in the best specialists in the field.”

  “Oh great, now you’re blaming yourself.”

  “I should have been here.”

  “If you had, I never would have been breastfeeding to begin with.”

  The truth of the statement settled between them, reminding them why they were there, and how much they still had to figure out.

  Quint held up his glass briefly before drinking it down in a few quick gulps. “God, I’ve missed wine. The other things, I could leave behind tomorrow, but, mmm. This wine is absolutely heavenly. What do you think of it?”

  Amara gave a little smile as she raised her own glass to her lips. “It’s delicious.”