One Unforgettable Weekend. Andrea Laurence

When he looked at her that way, she’d do anything he wanted. But this wouldn’t be just a simple admission of attraction. “Aidan...”

      “Say it.”

      She swallowed hard. “Okay, fine. Yes, I’m still attracted to you. Does that make you happy?”

      He narrowed his gaze and eased back from her. “Not really. I’ve never met a woman who fought her desires so strongly. You don’t want to want me at all. Is it because I’m a bartender and not some flashy investment banker like your boyfriend?”

      Violet flinched. That wasn’t the reason, but it certainly didn’t help their situation. She didn’t need a man’s money—she was a billionaire in her own right—but she had made a habit of dating wealthy men in the past. It made her feel less like a prize to be won, a lottery ticket to change a man’s fortune forever. Although they were rarely discussed, there were plenty of male gold-diggers in the world, too.

      “No,” Violet argued. “It’s not about that. And anyway, he’s my ex-boyfriend. Listen, there’s something we need to talk about.” She pressed her hand to his chest, hoping to get some breathing room, but he didn’t budge. All she ended up doing was getting a handful of his hard muscles beneath his dress shirt. “Please have a seat so we can talk for a minute.”

      He didn’t respond. He didn’t even move. She realized then that his attention had shifted to something over her shoulder.

      “Aidan?” Was he even listening to her?

      Violet turned and followed Aidan’s gaze to the framed photograph on her desk. It was the only picture of Knox she kept in the office, and now she regretted even having this one here. Everyone who saw it asked about the cherubic baby with the bright red curls and big blue eyes. Apparently it had caught his attention as well, but not just because her son was adorable. The similarities were impossible to ignore, a fact that had nearly blown her over when the memories of their time together hit her all at once. At last, the final, crucial puzzle piece had fallen into place.

      The panic was evident by his big eyes and slack jaw. He knew what the photo meant. There was no need to do math or conduct a paternity test for him to understand the truth. Finally, he turned back to her and swallowed hard. “Is that your baby?”

      She nodded and he stood upright, leaving her personal space and making her suddenly feel cold without him. “Yes. That’s Lennox, my son. He’s almost six months old.”

      “Lennox,” he repeated, as though he were trying to get used to the sound of the name.

      “I call him Knox for short. He’s amazing. So smart, so loving. I’ve truly been blessed as a mother.”

      Aidan turned back to the photo, the unasked question hanging on his lips.

      “And yes,” Violet began, with a mix of relief and apprehension climbing up the back of her throat. How long had she worried she would never get to say these words to someone? That she might never know the truth about Knox? Now in the moment, she wasn’t even sure she could get the words out. She gripped the arms of her chair to steady herself and looked up into the familiar sky-blue eyes of the near-stranger standing in front of her.

      “I’m pretty sure that he’s...your son.”

       Two

      “My son?”

      Her words were like a swift kick to his gut. Aidan had known—known from the moment he’d laid eyes on the baby in the picture—that it was his, but hearing it aloud carried an impact he didn’t expect.

      “Yes. I’m sorry this is how you had to find out. Please sit down so we can talk about this.”

      Aidan reluctantly pulled away and returned to his seat. It was better that he sit, anyway, before his legs failed him and he had no choice. His mind was spinning with thoughts he couldn’t grab ahold of. He’d come here to apply for money to start a halfway house and had managed, instead, to get a son. A son named Knox. A son he’d never met before.

      The thought made his stomach twist into knots. He’d always wanted a family of his own when the time came. He’d wanted a chance to be a better father than his own had been, to prove that he was better than his alcoholic, waste-of-space dad. He knew that when he decided to get married and start a family, he would dedicate his world to them, because that was the way it should be.

      But instead, he’d just found out his son was six months old and he’d missed everything so far. He would remedy that, and soon. He wasn’t sure what Violet had in mind, but he would be a father to Knox. He would take him to Yankees games, be there for every T-ball tryout and parent-teacher conference.

      “Why didn’t you tell me I had a son?” He was surprised at how cold his own voice sounded, but he was choking back a sea of emotions. It was better to show none at all than to let them rush out of him all at once.

      Violet’s expression twisted in irritation. “You’re really asking me that?”

      Apparently she was going to stick fast to her amnesia story. He didn’t really buy it, but he’d go along with it for now. “So I guess you’re saying since you forgot we slept together, you forgot I was the father?”

      She slid her chair closer to the desk and folded her neatly manicured hands over the leather and parchment blotter. Her brow furrowed as she seemed to search for her words. “The way you say it sounds so convenient, as though I haven’t spent the last six months of my life agonizing over the fact that I had no idea who my baby’s father was.”

      “Who did you think it belonged to for the months before that?”

      Her gaze dropped down to her desk, avoiding him. “I thought it was Beau’s child—my ex you mentioned before. Since I had no memory of our time together, I had no reason to think otherwise. We got engaged. We planned a wedding and future together. And then the doctor in the delivery room handed him a baby with a full head of curly red hair and the whole room just went into shock.”

      Aidan tried not to laugh. He could just picture the scene with everyone wondering where this pasty Irish kid had come from. It would be funny if it hadn’t meant that he’d missed the birth of his first child in the process. “How’d he take that? Not well I’d imagine.”

      Violet sighed and looked up at him. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is that we’re not together anymore and we know he isn’t Knox’s father. I’ve got the lab results to prove it.”

      “What did your parents say?”

      She narrowed her gaze at him. “Did we discuss my parents before?”

      It seemed as though Violet didn’t remember their conversation. That probably had more to do with the tequila than her head injury. She’d been pretty upset when she’d strolled into his bar and demanded a shot with tears in her eyes. He’d listened to her story and made it his mission to make her smile again, never imagining that decision would lead them to this point. To a child.

      “Not at length,” he explained. “Only that they were pushing you to be with this guy even though he was a grade-A jerk. I can imagine having another man’s baby was a disappointment for them after thinking you two were going to get married and they’d get their way.”

      “Well, yes, but not as much of a disappointment as having an unknown man’s baby. They certainly can’t have their fancy friends and family finding out the truth. They’d be much happier if I just took Beau back and pretended like Knox belonged to him. I think they’re still telling people that Beau is the father and we’re just having a rough patch. My mother tried to convince me that we had a recessive pale, redheaded gene in our Greek and Israeli heritage.” She shook her head. “I’ve never met one. They’re just grasping at straws.”

      “I suppose that means they’re not going to be too happy to find out his real father is a broke Irishman who owns a bar.”

      Violet