Ultimate Romance Collection. Rebecca Winters

      “Yes, but I’ve always declined. He’s not my type.” She checked her watch again and then looked up at him. “Are you going to deny you’re my husband? People might question you about it.”

      “Don’t worry. I won’t give your secret away.”

       Six

      When they walked out of the office, the first person Laramie noticed was Steven Culpepper and how the man’s eyes narrowed when they got closer. If the guy had gotten word that Bristol’s supposedly dead husband wasn’t dead after all, then what the hell was he still hanging around for?

      Laramie detected Bristol’s nervousness. Did she think he would rat her out, expose her for lying about their marriage when he’d told her he wouldn’t? He slowed his pace and she slowed hers. He glanced down at her. “You okay?”

      “Yes. I’m just surprised to see Steven still here.”

      That made two of them. “You want me to ask him to leave?”

      “No. I guess he was concerned. I see Mr. Kusac is still here, too. I can understand his concern since he was a good friend of my father’s.”

      Laramie didn’t say anything. He recalled how people had jumped into motion when the man named Kusac had barked out orders earlier. Even the owner of the gallery was quick to do the man’s bidding.

      Margie left the group to walk toward them, a smile on her lips. “Well, did the two of you get things straightened out?” she asked.

      Laramie answered before Bristol did. “Yes, and we’re leaving.”

      The woman lifted a brow. “Leaving? To go where?”

      Laramie was tempted to tell the woman that he didn’t think it was any of her business, but Bristol answered, “I’m going home, Margie. Is the car ready to take me there?”

      “Yes.”

      “Good.” She then turned to Laramie and said, “I need to say good-night to everyone.”

      “Okay, let’s do that.”

      Her eyes widened, probably in surprise that he’d included himself in the goodbyes, but she didn’t say anything as he walked with her over to the three men. “I would like you to meet Laramie Cooper.”

      Laramie was sure it didn’t go unnoticed how Bristol had introduced him. She hadn’t referred to him as her husband. He figured these people assumed he was her back-from-the-dead husband, but she wasn’t allowing anyone to presume anything about the nature of their relationship.

      She thanked the owner of the gallery for hosting the event and apologized for all the commotion she’d caused by fainting.

      Maurice Jazlyn waved off her words and said, “I would have passed out, too, had I thought my husband was dead and then he suddenly appeared out of nowhere.”

      Laramie didn’t speak. If they were waiting for him to explain his absence for the past three years, they could wait on.

      Then Jazlyn’s face broke into a smile. “But then, I certainly can’t complain since every last one of your paintings sold and you being here brought Kusac out tonight. It’s been years since I’ve seen him.”

      “And I was glad to see him, as well,” Bristol said, smiling at the man. “Thanks for coming.”

      Colin Kusac smiled. “Your first art show in New York—I would not have missed it for the world.”

      Then Bristol’s attention went to Steven Culpepper. Laramie didn’t like the vibes he was picking up off the man. He hadn’t liked them from the first. “Steven,” he heard Bristol say. “Thanks for inviting all those people here tonight. It was a nice turnout thanks to you.”

      “No need to thank me, but I’d like for us to meet sometime this week. Several of my clients here tonight were impressed with your work and want to see more. A few are willing to commission some of your future projects.”

      “That’s wonderful! I’m sure we can arrange a meeting,” Margie said excitedly behind them. “Just give me a call, Steven. I’ll work out a date and time when Bristol is available.”

      A tight smile touched Culpepper’s lips. “Yes, of course, Margie.” Laramie had a feeling Culpepper had wanted a private meeting with Bristol and her manager had ruined those plans.

      “I’ll call you tomorrow to discuss your availability, Bristol,” Margie said.

      “That’s fine,” Bristol said, smiling. She then turned to him. “I’m ready to go, Laramie.”

      He nodded and took her hand, leading her toward the door.

      * * *

      “I don’t bite, you know.”

      Bristol glanced across the back seat at Laramie and had to admit there was a lot of space between them. He might not bite but she could vividly recall a lot of other naughty things he could do with his mouth.

      Jeez. Why was she remembering that now?

      “I know you don’t bite, but I figured you would want your space.”

      She thought the chuckle that ensued from his throat sounded way too sexy for her ears. “Is that a way of letting me know you like yours?”

      She shrugged. “I guess I’ve gotten used to it.” No need to tell him that she hadn’t had another man in her life since him, serious or otherwise. After her son was born, he had become her whole world and there hadn’t been room for anyone else. Some women needed a man to feel like a female; she didn’t.

      He didn’t say anything for a minute and that was fine with her as the private car carried them through the streets of Manhattan and toward the Brooklyn Bridge. When they’d left the gallery she’d noticed the temperature had dropped. Forecasters had predicted a heavy snowfall before Christmas and with this cold snap being less than two weeks before Christmas, she could see it happening.

      “Tell me about him. My son.”

      Laramie’s words intruded into her reverie and she glanced over at him. The bright lights from the tall buildings they passed illuminated his features and she could see why she’d been taken with him from the first. Any woman would have been.

      In Paris, Laramie Cooper had been handsome and charismatic all rolled into one. He was still handsome, she would give him that, but he had yet to unleash any of the charm that had swept her off her feet and into the nearest bed. But then she figured when a man was told he was the father of a child he hadn’t known he had, his secret son, shock might put a damper on the charm.

      Bristol settled her body against the leather seat. Talking about her son was one of her favorite subjects. “He’s perfect.”

      There was that sexy chuckle again from him. “Besides that. How about starting off telling me about your pregnancy. Was it a hard one?”

      She could vividly recall all nine months of it. “Not after my sixth month. I was one of those unusual women who had morning sickness in the morning and at night. I could barely keep anything in my stomach, and the smell of some foods would send me rushing for the nearest bathroom.”

      “Sounds pretty bad.”

      “I thought so at the time. I had planned to leave Paris in my fifth month but my doctor restricted air travel until I was better. I’d lost a lot of weight. I wasn’t eating much and what I was eating my baby was getting. That’s why it doesn’t surprise me now that Laramie is a big eater.”

      “When did you leave Paris?”

      “In my sixth month. I wanted my baby to be born in the United States. Thank God for online shopping and for Ms. Charlotte, who lives next door to my aunt. The house was cleaned out and baby furniture delivered,