Passionate Proposals. Andrea Laurence

Ross, would you be willing to testify to a judge about what you told us today?” Graham asked. “Odds are that it won’t be necessary for us to compel the paternity test, but the judge might ask to speak with you.”

      “Absolutely. I think I’ve stayed quiet about all this long enough. Mr. Winchester needs to do right by his children. It’s never too late for that.”

      “Thank you for coming to speak with us today,” Carson said, shaking the woman’s hand.

      She took it, standing up and clutching her bag to her side. “It was no trouble. I’ve wondered for years what happened to Cynthia’s babies. Now I know. She would be so proud of you three. I’m sure of it.”

      Graham escorted the woman out of the office, returning about ten minutes later. “So? What do you think?”

      “I think you’re the luckiest bastard in the world,” Brooks said. “I can’t fathom how you managed to find her.”

      “Luck has nothing to do with it,” he said, dropping into a chair. “Law school is brutal, but it teaches you how to find the information you need to sway the court in your favor. My research skills are second to none. It wasn’t easy, I assure you. I called every damn employment agency in town before I struck gold. If that hadn’t worked, I was going to try to smooth-talk his accountant into finding past employment records. Thankfully, this worked.”

      “So now what?” Carson asked.

      “I’ve got the paperwork all ready to submit to the judge,” Graham said. “Once he issues the order for the paternity test, we’ll deliver it to Sutton. When we’re certain he’s our father, we’ll make our bid to be included in his estate, sit back and watch the fireworks.”

      * * *

      “I knew you’d be back.”

      Georgia ignored Sutton’s smug expression. It was far more unnerving to look him in the eye now that she recognized that those green eyes were so much like Carson’s. Knowing this man was likely Carson’s father was hard to stomach, especially when his gaze raked over her with poorly masked desire.

      “Does Newport know you’re here?”

      “No, he doesn’t.” Georgia hadn’t told him because she knew Carson wouldn’t let her do this. She wanted to keep the door open to Sutton. Not because she wanted the job, but because she wanted information. If Carson and his brothers ended up taking Sutton to court, anything she came up with could be helpful. And if she could get some money for the hospital from him, more the better.

      “So have you come to your senses and decided to accept my offer? Finally figure out Newport isn’t man enough for you?”

      She tried not to roll her eyes. She needed to play along, at least for a little bit, if she was going to get what she wanted out of this meeting. Georgia knew it was dangerous to waltz back into the lion’s den, but it was the only way to get the information she was after.

      “A girl has to keep her options open.”

      Sutton’s chuckle was punctuated with a long bout of coughing. He pulled the pocket square from his suit coat and held it over his mouth. She couldn’t help but notice as she watched him that he didn’t look well. His suit was hanging off him. His face was slightly sunken in, emphasizing his cheekbones and the gray circles beneath his eyes. He seemed to have deteriorated pretty rapidly since she saw him at the party about a week ago.

      When he finished coughing and pulled the handkerchief away, Georgia noticed a few small droplets of blood on the fabric. Sutton was seriously ill. He didn’t need a mistress. He needed a doctor.

      “I think I could use a drink.” Sutton cleared his throat, pushed up from his desk and walked over to the minibar in the corner. “Can I get you something?”

      “Sure.” Standing up, she followed Sutton to where he was dropping ice cubes into two crystal tumblers. She leaned against the edge of the conference room table and watched as he poured himself some scotch, and then made her a vodka gimlet. It was her favorite drink, although she had no idea how he could possibly know that.

      Finally he held up her glass to her. “Here you go, my dear. What shall we drink to?”

      Georgia eyed the glass until she came up with an answer. “To keeping our options open,” she said with a smile.

      “Indeed.” He clinked his crystal against hers and took a sip. He watched her as she drank some of her drink, then set his glass down on the edge of the table beside her. “So what is it that I can do for you today, Georgia? Are you ready to accept my generous offer?”

      “Not yet.”

      “Well, ‘not yet’ is better than the no you gave me last time. I’m making progress.”

      Georgia was willing to let a sickly old man believe that if it made him feel better. “It’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind.”

      “Never were truer words spoken.” Sutton took a step toward her, crowding into her space and leaning close. “What would convince you to accept my offer, Georgia? Just name it. More money? Jewelry? A nice high-rise penthouse? I can give you anything you want if you’ll give yourself to me right now.” His hand rested on her thigh as he gazed intently at her. She got the feeling he meant it. But there was no way she would accept.

      “I’ll have to think on that,” she said as she picked up his hand and moved it off her leg. “But there are some things you could do that might sway my final decision.”

      “A negotiator, eh? I’ll bite.” He scooped up his drink, although he didn’t move away. They were nearly touching. “Like what?”

      “I’d like Elite Industries to make a donation to the Newport children’s hospital project.”

      He narrowed his gaze at her as he sipped his scotch. “And why would I want to do that?”

      “Well, I happen to know that you don’t have a public relations director at the moment. If I were heading up your PR department, that is exactly what I would recommend. People know that you were competing for the land where the hospital will be built. Some may think that Elite should’ve backed down on the condo project to support a worthy cause. I think donating to the hospital would be good damage control.”

      “I don’t need damage control. I run this town.”

      “That may be,” she continued, “but you wouldn’t want to look like a poor sport for losing to Newport, would you? I know you’re not used to losing, so you might not know how to handle it.”

      “Losing...” Sutton muttered. “If I had wanted that land, I would’ve gotten it.”

      He could tell himself that, but he’d passed along his stubbornness to Carson along with his eyes. “Sure you would’ve,” she agreed. “But what better way to bless the project you let happen than by supporting it? Come on, Sutton. Just cut a check.”

      Sutton leaned into her, forcing Georgia to lean farther back on the conference room table. “And aside from good PR, what will my check get me?”

      Georgia placed a hand on Sutton’s chest to keep him from moving any closer. “That depends on how big the check is.”

      A wide grin spread across the older man’s face, suddenly reminding her so much of Carson that her chest ached. “You’re a feisty one. I love that about you. You win. I’ll write a check to Newport for whatever you want.”

      “Write it for however much you think I’m worth.”

      “Mr. Winchester? Georgia?” A sharp, startled voice sounded from the other side of the office.

      Georgia snapped her head to the door of Sutton’s office, where Graham was standing. His face showed a mix of surprise and anger as he looked at the two of them together. Hovering over his shoulder was Eve Winchester, the oldest of Sutton’s three daughters and corporate heir apparent.