I rushed out to try to warn him. Not that you should take that as an excuse.”
She crossed her arms under her breasts and his gaze drifted down for a moment. He enjoyed the deep V of the bodice of her wrap dress before he realized what he was doing and brought his eyes back up to meet hers.
“Fair enough. I get why you left,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” he said. Was it actually that easy? He’d been afraid to let her know and now it seemed his worry had been for nothing. He might actually be able to ask her out and maybe get something started.
She nodded. “Actually, I need to talk to you about that night.”
Talking was good. Right? He was a practical man. A rational man. But he’d been raised by parents who believed in fate and destiny, and a part of him thought Scarlet’s presence in Cole’s Hill had to be more than just coincidence. But what was it?
He easily attributed his longing for her to the fact that one night hadn’t been enough for him. It never was. One weekend...maybe. But one night—no way! Now he was standing in front of her and that ache he’d felt when he’d been trying not to think about her for the last six weeks was stronger than ever. So he wasn’t going to walk away from it.
He’d learned early on that the more he denied he wanted something, the more he craved it. But Scarlet hardly seemed like she was going to give him a second chance.
And really, did he blame her?
No, of course not.
His smart watch buzzed, warning him he needed to head to the barn to get ready for the polo match.
He scrubbed his hand over his face and wished for once that he had more self-control. Though following his gut had led him to great success in business, this wasn’t the first time it had landed him in hot water with his personal life.
“I have about ten minutes before the match starts,” Alec said. “My family is having a brunch afterward and I’d love it if you would accompany me. So you can see I’m not a total douchebag.”
“I don’t think you’re a total douchebag.”
He almost smiled at the way she said it but he knew he was still in hot water. It reminded him of why he’d hooked up with her. She’d been so spot-on with her descriptions of some of the more pretentious people in the room the night of the awards banquet, they’d sort of started bonding over it.
“Will you please come with me?” he asked. “They all know what I did...well, at least that I kissed you while pretending to be Mo. So they will definitely understand you’re angry with me.”
“My assistant is here. Can she come, too?”
“Yes, of course. I think Bart and Zaria will be joining us, too, so there will be more familiar faces for you.”
“Fine. I’ll see you after the match,” she said, walking past him in a cloud of feminine ire and Chanel perfume. He glanced over his shoulder, watching her retreat and ignoring the spark of excitement that was spreading through him.
She kept her cool until she was sure she was out of his line of sight and then she finally stopped walking like she had all the confidence in the world.
Whom the hell had she slept with?
She’d made some dumb decisions in the course of her life. Heck, who hadn’t, right? But the truth was she was usually pretty picky when it came to bed partners. She didn’t hook up with just every cute guy who came along, despite what the tabloids liked to print about her. And that night... Well, she’d thought she was connecting with Mauricio Velasquez. As for Alejandro—Alec—she’d had no idea she was being tricked like that.
Ugh.
“You okay?” Billie asked, coming up next to her.
“Yeah. I mean no. I don’t know,” she admitted to her assistant. “This isn’t going like I planned.”
Billie laughed in that honest way of hers and Scarlet couldn’t help smiling. “When does it ever? What’s going on here? You haven’t told me a single deet except you wanted to reconnect with that guy you met in Houston.”
Scarlet took her sunglasses off and glanced at her friend, trying to find the words. But they still escaped her. This was the kind of situation Tara had always found herself in. Usually Scarlet prided herself on being smarter about her personal life.
“It’s complicated,” she said.
“I’m all ears,” Billie said.
“Well, I can’t say too much here,” Scarlet said, glancing around at all the people gathering on the observation deck to watch the match. There was a bar set up and a small buffet table. The conversation was about the Velasquez brothers; apparently one of them was married to the British jewelry heiress Phillipa Hamilton-Hoff.
“Later, then?” Billie asked.
Scarlet nodded.
“Do you need me? I thought I’d go back to the house and check on Siobahn and then go grocery shopping. I have two interviews lined up for later this evening with private chefs but I’m probably going to have to cook dinner tonight,” Billie said.
Billie was obviously busy, and a part of Scarlet knew she should just let her get on with her job. What was she going to say to Billie?
“Scar?”
She just shrugged and shoved her glasses back on her face and turned away. The quick movement made her stomach churn.
Crap.
She didn’t want to throw up here. She couldn’t.
But she felt the bile in the back of her throat and put her hand in front of her mouth.
“Bathroom?” she said to Billie.
“Shit. Too far,” Billie said, quickly realizing that Scarlet was going to throw up. Billie grabbed her hand and they started running away from the crowd as the first chukka of the polo match got under way. Billie drew her behind the side of the barn in the nick of time and Scarlet was sick while Billie squeezed her shoulder and held her hair out of the way.
When her stomach was empty, Billie handed her a water bottle and she rinsed her mouth and spit before standing up and turning to her friend. She’d lost her sunglasses somewhere and she needed them.
She liked the illusion that she was invisible hiding behind the large-framed glasses. And as she saw the surprised look Billie’s brown eyes, she knew she needed to hide. Her friend wasn’t going to buy any excuse. She knew for a fact that Scarlet had been on a detox, eating and drinking healthy.
“You’re pregnant?”
Scarlet swallowed, her throat dry and sore. “Yes. But it’s complicated.”
“The father is that Mauricio guy?” Billie asked, taking a few steps away from Scarlet and picking up her sunglasses from the ground.
She handed them to Scarlet and she put them on. “I thought so. But the guy has a twin brother. They switched places that night.”
“Okay, obviously we are mad about this. What do you want me to do? I can reach out to our press contacts and start a smear—”
“Not yet. I don’t even know this guy. He invited me to join him and his family for brunch after the match. I was hoping you’d come with me,” Scarlet said.
“Oh, hell yes, I’ll be there. What’s his name?” Billie asked, pulling her smartphone from her pocket.
“Alejandro Velasquez,” Scarlet said.
“Shit, are you kidding?”
“Do you think I’d joke about that? Why? Who