Baby Be Mine (Spinsters & Casanovas Series Book 1) (13 page)

Silverton Enterprises’ motto was this: “Help
the people to help themselves.” His father valued firmness and
honesty in any kind of business. Their foundation was not meant to
simply give the residents money. They provided the basic
necessities such as education and healthcare so they could in turn
earn or provide a living for themselves. His father liked to think
of their foundation as a stepping-stone, giving the citizens the
tools needed to help themselves and future generations. His father
had even begun trading goods with the Cambodians.

Truth be told, Hunter knew his wayward ways
were really just a façade. He had seen so much in Cambodia that it
affected him, a scar engraved in his heart, refusing to be healed.
So why did he continue to act like a Casanova and pretend to have a
carefree life? The truth rested in the fact that he wanted Anton to
inherit his dad’s empire. He had already planned this from the
start.

Anton had been orphaned at a young age. He
had worked so hard to help his dad build up his empire so there was
no way in hell he, Hunter Silverton, would be named the heir when
he didn’t really do anything to contribute to its wealth.

Anton was an amazing person and he was glad
to have him as a cousin, although he saw Anton as more of a big
brother. He could remember when he was still in his teens, Anton
was already helping out his dad with the business. So Anton
deserved to be the heir, not him. He knew he had made the right
choice. And so he must keep up this stupid façade, sleeping with
random women, frivolously spending his father’s money, and most of
all, refusing to take any responsibility in the business.

Some nights he wondered when he would find
the right woman who would actually help him fall asleep for real,
without the help of sex or alcohol. After his mum passed away
during his birth, he had always slept alone, being bottled fed
instead of breastfed. Therefore, there was always this niggling
need to be loved and feel loved, to have a body lying next to him,
to comfort him when he cried, to pat his head when he did well, to
soothe his pain when he was hurt, or to comfort him simply for the
sake of comforting him and loving him. Betty was nice, but she was
his stepmom. And she didn’t come into his life until much later,
when his father spotted her among the other maids.

“It is,” Clarice said after a while,
bringing his thoughts back to the present. “We went there a few
years ago to create a dental practice for the children in
Battambang.”

Hunter gazed at the avocado. She held an
expression of nostalgia. He smiled and was lost there for a minute
as she gazed out into some faraway place, her thoughts in another
time.

Hunter felt a little guttered that he didn’t
get to go to Battambang. Their foundation was set up in the Kendal
Province, or Central Province, near the capital of Cambodia, Phnom
Penh. Maybe if he went at the end of this year, he could explore
that part of the country and check out her clinic.

“Have you been to Angkor Watt?” Clarice
asked all of a sudden, forgetting about their bickering.

“Yes, I have. It’s beautiful.”

Now both of their faces held that faraway
look, both casting back to the time when each stood in front of the
ancient intricate stone temple that stood so majestic, surrounded
by a scenic moat covered with lily pads. From afar, when the sun
set on the far horizon behind the temple, the whole scenery was
transformed by the glowing reflection of the bright-orange light on
the moat, giving the temple an ambient glow that looked so
picturesque, like a painting on canvas. This would be the kind of
image Hunter would treasure forever.

“I know it is,” Clarice said, reflecting
Hunter’s thought. “Apparently the country had some Indian
influence, followed by the French. When I was there, they served a
lot of baguettes.”

Why was she telling Hunter about her
heritage? Why was she even having this conversation with this man
anyway? They were not friends. Her nostalgic expression transformed
dramatically into a scowl when she realized this.

“Cambodia is beautiful,” Hunter stated. Then
his eyes turned mischievous as he gazed at her. “Lovely country
with lovely people, unlike here. The one Cambodian I’ve met had to
spit on me on our first meeting.”

“Why back to the spitting incident again?”
Clarice fumed again. Here she almost thought he was a pleasant man
to talk to, what with both of them liking Cambodia and whatnot, but
now he was back to being that annoying man again.

“Well, that is why I’m here,” Hunter said
simply with a shrug of his shoulder.

“You… arrggh. I’ll personally deposit that
money into your bank account tomorrow. And don’t ask for cash
because I don’t carry that much. Just text me your bank information
later. Now I’m leaving. Don’t follow me.”

Clarice turned to walk away. But it was only
a few seconds later when she heard footsteps beside her, and
turning around, she saw Hunter smiling his seductive charm towards
her again, the same he used with her at his house when she
delivered those roses. This time, though, she was not fazed.

“Now what?” she shouted at him.

“I was just thinking why we always seem to
run into each other like this.” Hunter walked in front of Clarice
and blocked her way. “Don’t you think the wheel of fate is playing
a hand in this?” he asked with amusement.

“No. I don’t think the wheel of fate has a
hand in this. I think it’s more like the wheel of misfortune,”
Clarice said, then turned on her heel and walked around Hunter
while he just burst into a fit of laughter.

“Really?” he managed to say after he caught
his breath. “I like to think of it as fate. Like we’re meant to be
rivals or enemies for life; that’s why I keep seeing you
everywhere,” he said as he took off after her again.

“What are you doing? Go back to your car.
Stop following me.” Clarice shooed Hunter away as if she were
shooing away an eager Labrador.

“I’m not following you. I’m only taking a
leisurely walk. It’s a nice day for a walk.”

“In this part of town? Like this?” Clarice
gestured to their surroundings.

“Yes, in this part of town. Like this,”
Hunter said simply, then continued on walking, pretending to admire
the view around them.

“I wouldn’t expect a guy like you to be seen
walking on a footpath like this.”

“What? Can’t a Greek god like me walk on
this footpath too?” He inched closer to her.

“Yes, you can, but not near me,” Clarice
said, feeling a little intimidated as he stood so close. She walked
faster, trying to outdo him, but no matter how fast she walked, her
short legs could only take her so far, and his long stride
dissolved more distance than hers.

“The footpath is quite small. Of course I
have to stand near you while walking,” Hunter said.

Clarice ceased her power-walking and stood
facing him. She almost craned her neck just to see his face. Hell,
from this distance, she felt so small standing next to him. In the
afternoon sunlight, his long, dusty corn silk hair shone as if spun
gold atop his head, and her hands yearned to run through it.
Clarice, how could you?
She mentally slapped herself for
feeling this way towards this Casanova.

“Are you going this way for your walk?”
Clarice asked in her serious tone, pointing to the right.

“Mmmm.” Hunter nodded.

“Good. Then I’m going that way,” Clarice
thumbed to her left. “Away from you. Good-bye, Hunter. I hope I
never see you again,” Clarice said, summoning all of her energy for
her power-walk retreat, no looking back. Then she glanced at her
watch and cringed. Yikes, only half an hour to go before she had to
meet up with the representative at the Silverton Hotel.

Clarice hastened her pace, but once again
she felt his presence next to her. Why was her body so in tune with
him? She didn’t even need to see him at all. Her body could just
tell her he was near. It was like he released some kind of
pheromone that only her body responded to.

“What are you doing now? Going back to your
car?” Clarice asked as Hunter followed her yet again.

“Yep. I’ve had enough walking,” Hunter said,
stalking after her.

“Good. I’ll make way for you.” Clarice
paused and stepped to the edge of the footpath so Hunter could
bypass her, but instead, he just stood next to her.

“Mmm, the view looks nice from here,” Hunter
said, pretending to look around again.

“Hunter, are you trying to annoy me here?”
she asked.

“Am I annoying you? I’m just enjoying the
view by standing here.” He turned to see some bushes that needed
cutting. It was very unappealing, and some of the branches even
snaked out onto the footpath.

“You are literally wedged to me like we’re
sardines in a can,” Clarice said when Hunter drew himself closer to
her, almost imprisoning her with his body.

“Am I? I didn’t know.” He feigned
ignorance.

“All right, enough of this.” Clarice’s
temper shot through the roof. “You go back to your car and I’m
going back to mine. End of story.”

“Ha-ha-ha-ha.”

“What are you laughing at now?”

“I was just betting with myself how long
before I could make you lose your temper.”

“And?”

“And it didn’t even last five minutes.”

“That’s because you rile me up, on
purpose.”

Hunter turned serious all of a sudden,
making her heart thump unevenly again. He leaned closer, making
sure she couldn’t escape, and whispered, “You know, my tastes don’t
usually extend to older women, but for you, Madam Avocado, I’ll
make an exception.” Then he smiled at her, his eyes twinkling with
mischief.

“Get off me.” Clarice pushed at Hunter’s
chest, but he wouldn’t even budge, keeping her wedged between him
and the bushes. “I said get away from me.” She shoved him again,
and this time he moved back easily. Composing herself now so her
breath would behave, she said, “I don’t need you to make an
exception for me. I’m not interested.”

“Oh, what kind of men are you interested in,
then?”

“None of your concern.” She turned away her
face in annoyance.

“Fine. Just curious, because a girl in her
thirties cannot always be selective. You know the saying: beggars
can’t be choosers. For now, Avocado, you’re a beggar.”

“How?”

“You’re thirty.”

“And would you be so kind as to
elaborate?”

“You know how it goes. Women in their
thirties are old, while we men in our thirties, we’ve just reached
our prime.”

“And the point of this whole conversation
is…?”

“That you can’t always wait for the right
person for you. When the offer comes up, you have to grab it,
because, Avocado, your time is running out fast. Dare I say that
your mechanics might not be functioning properly downstairs?”

“Downstairs?”

“Yes, downstairs.” Hunter nodded, eyeing her
pelvic area.

When the meaning sank in, she slapped
Hunter’s shoulder with her bag. “You bastard! Mother, Father,
please forgive me for swearing, but you bastard, incompetent human
being. How could you say this to a lady? Just how old are you?

“Twenty-three.” Hunter laughed while being
slapped around by Clarice, pretending to defend himself with his
arms. Oh Lord help him, he really enjoyed teasing and tormenting
this woman. He hadn’t had so much fun in ages.

“Only twenty-three and you’re saying things
like that to your elders. God, if I were your mother I’d smack your
bottom right now.”

Those words coming out of Clarice’s mouth
suddenly made Hunter hard. He stood still, staring at her. God, he
was turned on by this woman, who was a good seven years older than
him. How was this possible? He’d never found older women attractive
before. Yes, she was very attractive and did catch his eye in the
beginning, but now knowing her age, he still felt this lustful
effect from her.

Clarice, noticing Hunter had gone quite
still, stopped thrashing him and stood quietly staring at him with
her big black pupils.

Hunter didn’t like this. He didn’t like it
one bit. He wasn’t used to these feelings. He was used to chasing
women and then throwing them away, never to have any deeper
involvement with anyone. This was foreign territory. He wanted to
hold her and smash his lips against hers right there and then, on
the damn, tiny, suffocating footpath. Feeling as if he were going
to give in to this brewing temptation and with the hardness that
was growing downstairs, he uttered a breathless, “I gotta go,” and
then made a dash to his car.

Clarice continued to stand right there,
silently watching Hunter in confusion, wondering why he had
suddenly run off and drove away like a criminal pursued by a
cavalcade of police officers.

Only when Hunter was out of her eyesight did
her mind bring back the uncooked soup of thoughts. Extracting her
last bag of chocolate cookies, she nibbled away, walking aimlessly,
unaware she had made her way to the colossal Silverton Hotel until
she realized she’d finished the whole bag.

The Silverton Hotel boasted five-star
accommodations, with head chefs flown all the way from France and
Italy. Not her type of food, but a five-star hotel sounded exciting
enough when she heard she would be staying there for the conference
in Queenstown.

Clarice walked through the double glass
doors that opened into a cavernous foyer and reception area. The
Silverton color theme was red, gold, and white. According to fêng
shui, those were the perfect colors for success. Feeling her
surroundings had changed, she was now somewhat quite relaxed and
not so agitated.

As Clarice made a turn to walk to the
reception area, she slammed into a hard chest. Running her eyes
upwards, she saw the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on,
excluding the Casanova, of course.