The Illegitimate Billionaire

“Did you need to talk about something?” she asked Hank.

Hank refocused his attention on her, and his expression smoothed out. “I spoke with Lawrence this morning. I understand it’s good news all around.”

“You mean the permit?”

“I mean the donation. Well played, Callie.”

“It wasn’t—”

“She was just telling me about the positive outcome,” Deacon put in.

Hank’s gaze hardened on Deacon. “She was, was she?”

“I agree with you,” Deacon told Hank, pretending to be oblivious to the undercurrents. “The donation was a good move. The permit should be in place this week, and she can get moving on the renovations.”

“She doesn’t need your support,” Hank said.

“I’m standing right here,” Callie said.

“Forgive me.” His tone dripping with remorse, Hank stepped forward and took her hands.

Deacon wanted to rip her from Hank’s hold. He waited for her to break it, but she didn’t.

Part of Deacon wanted to repeat his invitation for coffee, nail it down here and now. But the smarter part of him wanted to keep Hank in the dark about his intentions. If Hank knew Deacon was interested in Callie, he’d block him from every angle. Better to make a strategic temporary retreat and let Hank feel overconfident.

“I have to be on a call in a few minutes,” Deacon told Callie.

“Sorry to have kept you.” She finally withdrew from Hank’s hand-hold.

“See you later,” Deacon told her in a breezy tone that masked his frustration.

He left them, taking swift, long strides along the sidewalk.

Half a block away, he pulled out his phone. He dialed Tyrell’s private number.

“Yes?” came Tyrell’s gruff answer.

“I’m in,” Deacon said.

There was a silent pause on the line. “You’ll romance Callie?”

“Draft the paperwork.” Deacon ended the call.

* * *

Callie wasn’t going to think of this as a date. It was true that coffee with Deacon had turned into dinner. But that was only a matter of convenience. It was easier for her to get away in the evening. Downright Sweet catered to the breakfast and lunch crowd, closing at six, after patrons picked up takeout on their way home.

She didn’t know where she and Deacon were going for dinner, so she’d gone neutral with a sleeveless midnight blue cocktail dress. Its scoop neckline sparkled with a spray of subtle crystals. The waist was fitted, and it flared slightly to mid-thigh.

She’d popped her little diamond studs into her ears, pairing them with a delicate gold diamond chip pendant. Her black, high-heeled sandals were classic and comfortable. Her makeup had turned out a little heavier than usual, and when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she realized there was a shine of anticipation in her eyes.

She spotted her wedding set in the mirror.

She lifted her hand, spreading her fingers and touching the solitaire diamond.

She was too jazzed tonight for something that wasn’t a date.

She closed her eyes. Then she pulled off the rings. Before she could change her mind, she opened her jewelry box and set them on the red velvet. She’d already kissed Deacon once. If she was going to do it again, she had to admit to herself that Frederick was in her past.

She smoothed her dress, taking a last look at herself in the mirror.

Then her phone rang, and she felt a sudden rush of anxiety. Was it Deacon? Had he changed his mind?

She was afraid to look at the number, afraid to see it was him.

“Hello?”

“Callie?” It was Pam.

Callie breathed a sigh of relief. “Are you running late?”

“Yes. I mean, no.” Pam’s tone was high, her words rushed. “I mean, I’m not running at all.”

“Whoa. Slow down. Is everything okay?”

“I fell down the front stairs.”

There were voices in the background.

“Are you hurt?” Callie asked. “Who’s there with you?”

“I twisted my ankle. My mom’s taking me to the hospital for X-rays. It’s swelling up fast.”

“I’m so sorry.” Callie’s heart went out to Pam.

Pam was an avid cyclist and tennis player. A broken ankle would be devastating for her.

“I can’t babysit tonight,” Pam said.

“Don’t worry about it. Take care of yourself.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. Get to the doctor. Call me when you know something, okay? And if there’s anything I can do.”

“Ouch! Mom, I can’t bend that way.”

Callie cringed in sympathy.