Page 65 of Who's Your Daddy
“Lola.”
My name on his lips sends a shiver racing down my spine.
Slowly, gently, he cups my cheek and leans in.
My heart skips a beat. Is he going to kiss me?
My eyes fall closed, waiting for the moment our lips touch.
When he presses a gentle kiss to my forehead, they fly open again.
“You’re beautiful in every light.”
The elevator dings, and he steps back. It’s ridiculous, the way disappointment seeps through me.
With each sip of champagne, I told myself that no matter how romantic the setup was, no matter how charming Cal was tonight, I’d be immune. But with words likedevastatingandbeautifulfalling from his lips, I’m sinking in his quicksand.
“Come on.” He holds his hand out to me and for one second I almost take it. Blessedly, good sense barrels into me before I can. So instead, I steel my spine and strut past the charming man that I refuse to let get under my skin.
To my shock, the man lets out a hearty chuckle. As if my annoyance is his game.
Or, a voice in my head whispers,he just likes all of your moods.
I shake that idea off as I approach the doors to the ballroom.
Before I can step inside, he’s next to me again, cool and confident and full of light, as always. The ballroom screams Elizabeth Sweet. Clearly, the Hollywood star played a role in the décor. The floral arrangements are enormous, the crystal center pieces elaborate and classy, the place settings so extensive, each is equipped with enough forks for six people.
“Libby went all out,” Cal mumbles.
Although I’ve met Fisher a few times over the years since he’s our firm’s IT support, I’ve yet to meet his girlfriend. I’d have to live under a rock to not know who she was though. A child star who became America’s Sweetheart for a time. Though recently, she removed therose-colored glasses her fans have become so accustomed to wearing as she shared about her experience with the dark side of the industry.
“We’re not sitting with them, right?” I scan the room, shocked at the number of people here. I’ve never really attended events like this for the firm. For years, I’ve been a representative for Brian or Terry in the office and on the phone, but my days have always ended the moment I step out of the office. So, this was new territory for me.
Cal shakes his head. “No. We’re seated with the Berkshires, the Langfields, and the Millers.”
Brian handles the estates of all three disgustingly wealthy families, so that makes sense. Though most would be intimidated by the thought of spending the evening in their presence, Brian’s sister, Dylan, is a Miller these days, and she’s one of my favorite people.
Cal rests a hand on my lower back as we move through the room and leans down so I can hear him over the instrumental music floating through the large space. “Don’t be nervous, you might not realize this, but I attend these all the time. This will be easy.”
His tone is dripping with an unusual confidence, a seriousness I’ve never heard before. He nods to several people as they pass by, his normal charming grin in place. But his eyes are sharp, focused in a way I’ve never seen.
Maybe because I’ve never seen Cal in the courtroom, or the boardroom. I only know the Cal who comes into my office to irritate me. This is the Cal I’ve heard about but never truly believed existed. This is the magic he possesses. The reason he settles cases so smoothly and brings judges to his side of the fence. One more of the many sides of Callahan Murphy.
With a slight pressure on my lower back, he guides me to the table. Eight people sit at the ten top, leaving our two seats as the only vacant ones. Mr. and Mrs. Berkshire sit on the other side of the centerpiece. Mr. and Mrs. Miller are seated near their son, Cortney, and his wife, Dylan. Liv and Beckett Langfield are here too. Thiswill be a fun group.
“Good Evening,” Cal says, his British accent a bit more crisp, just like his movements. “Have you all met my Lola?”
My heart trips over itself at themyin that sentence.
Cal, as at ease as can be, shakes hands and kisses cheeks before pulling out the chair beside Dylan and gesturing for me to sit.
“My,huh? That’s new,” Dylan whispers, wiggling in her seat. “I love an office romance. It’s my favorite trope. Although I don’t know that any fictional story could top Liv and Becks’s real-life experience.”
Liv is now the head of the Boston Revs baseball team, but she used to run PR for Beckett’s company, Langfield Corp. A couple of years ago, they shocked the world and got married in Vegas.
“He didn’t meanmythat way.” I tighten my core muscles to keep the butterflies at bay.
“Liv thought that, too.” She giggles, gold eyes dancing. “And I can assure you the way Cal is watching you is very, very reminiscent of how Becks spent years watching Liv.”
