In the Argentine's Bed / Secret Baby, Public Affair: In the Argentine's Bed

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.” He tapped his cigar. “Tragic. The whole situation was a nightmare.”

Susannah blinked, unable to make sense of it.

Amado very definitely believed himself to be the son of Clara and Ignacio Alvarez. Now he wasn’t related to either of them?

Tarrant studied the end of his cigar. “My son, Amado, will unfortunately not return my calls.”

“How did he learn the news?”

“My daughter Fiona managed to get him on the phone long enough to share the happy news, but he hung up on her. She’s not terribly subtle, but I had hoped that the blood ties would…”

He let out a long sigh. “I’m truly impressed that you managed to coax him into providing a sample.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re a quiet one, and I can tell there’s more to you than meets the eye.”

Susannah shrank into her chair, feeling guilty.

“So I need you to go back to Argentina and bring my son home.”

Icy shock rushed over her. Back to Tierra de Oro? “You want me to bring him to New York?”

“I need to meet him. To show him the business. To welcome him to his place in it.”

A sharp flash of adrenaline stung her muscles at the prospect of seeing Amado again. Then reality set in. Tarrant wanted his son to join the business like his other newfound son Dominic.

Her stomach clenched and she recoiled at the prospect of trying to convince Amado to leave the home he loved so much. No matter how much money was involved, that would be wrong.

“He’ll never leave the estancia.” The words flew from her tongue. “It’s everything to him, his life’s work. He loves it like…” Like a father loves his son.