Tempt The Hookup (Tempt Series Book 3) Read online

  I see my boss, Leonard, standing almost in the center of it all, talking to a couple of people. He is wearing the same thing as I am except he’s wearing a fedora. By the time I finally make my way to him, he is all by himself.

  “Luca,” he says with a smile. Putting out his hand to shake mine, he then smacks my shoulder with his other hand. “So glad you can make it.” His face is in a constant smile.

  “I wouldn’t have missed it.” I smile at him. “You must be excited to have your daughter back?” I say, looking around.

  “It’s about time she came back home. She went there to ‘find herself,’” he says, using air quotes. “I think she went there to escape the fact she was pregnant and didn’t want to have all eyes on her.” He shrugs. “But the only thing that matters is she’s back.”

  “So you’re a grandfather?” I ask when a waiter comes over with a tray of champagne and water bottles. Grabbing a water bottle, I open it and take a drink. “I didn’t know.”

  “Yes, Aiden is six years old,” he says with a smile, his eyes even lighting up with that news. “Looks just like his mother,” he says, and I just smile.

  “Well, I can’t wait to meet them,” I say, bringing the water bottle back to my mouth.

  “Well, you won’t wait long. Here she is,” he says. I turn my head, and it all happens in slow motion. Or at least that is what it feels like. I turn my head, and my eyes meet the blue eyes that have haunted my fucking dreams since I walked off that boat. Her long blond hair is tied on the top of her head in a ponytail. She is looking around, and when she finally turns and her eyes meet mine, her eyes go wide. Her face goes pale, and then I look down at the little boy holding her hand, and I take a step back. He may have his mother’s looks, but those are my eyes.

  “Eli,” I mouth.

  Chapter Two

  Eliahn

  Six hours before shit went down

  “Mom,” my six-year-old son Aiden calls me from the other room, then comes running into my room. “They have a roller coaster,” he says with big eyes, going to the window and opening the shades to show me.

  I’ve been back in the States for two days, and the jet lag is still kicking my ass. I climb out of my childhood bed to go over to the window and look outside into the backyard. “Only your grandfather would go over the top like this.” I shake my head, whispering, “He has lost his mind.” I take in the workers on the lawn assembling what looks like a carnival.

  “Grandpa!” Aiden yells, running out of my room and going to my parents’ bedroom. I hear his footsteps all the way down the hallway toward their “wing.” He’s so excited to be back home even though he’s never lived a day of his life in the States. Being here and being waited on and spoiled is something my kid could get used to.

  I tie my hair in a bun and walk back over to the bed. Getting back in and covering myself, I let my head sink into the down pillow. I’ve been gone six years, and it somehow feels as if I’ve never left.

  A booze cruise was supposed to be my weekend of fun, but little did I know I would be leaving with more than a hangover and a broken heart. Well, not broken because we both knew the score going in. We both knew that it was for four days. But with Luca, it was more; he wasn’t the drunk guy doing belly shots off women lying on the ground right in front of them. Luca was the one sitting in the chair beside me, putting sunscreen on me and then whispering dirty things in my ear.

  When we bumped into each other the first day, everything just clicked in a non-cosmic way of sorts. Going on the cruise, I had a couple of rules, and one of them was first names only. I kind of lied to him just a touch by giving him my nickname Eli and not my real name Eliahn. Pronounced Eli-ann, my mother decided it would be unique. If only she knew the half it, I’ve never met anyone who could actually pronounce my name right the first time.

  No numbers were traded, no Facebook friend requests were given, nothing, and we were okay with it. We both knew it was a four-day fling; it was what every other single student on the boat was doing.

  It was a whirlwind until three weeks later when two lines showed up on the pregnancy test. It was a shock, to say the least. No matter how many times I said, “Oh God, oh God, oh God.” I paced my bedroom over and over again for hours, asking myself, “How can this be?”

  We used protection every single time, and let me tell you, there were lots of times. Luckily for both of us, they sold condoms on the boat because the pack he brought, and the pack I brought weren’t enough.

  Even though we knew it was a fling, we would open up to each other at night. I knew two things for sure about him; one, he was a law student, and the other was that he was an only child. Oh, and that his friends were nothing like him. And lucky for both of us, I had my own room, so we spent the majority of the trip in it, in bed.

  The look on my parents’ faces when I told them I was pregnant and keeping the baby was something I will never forget. My father actually threw his glass across the room and walked out. It didn’t help that I didn’t have the father’s name and that the money they gave me for spending went to going on a booze cruise with my best friend. All in all, it was a clusterfuck. When he finally came back in, there was a shouting match. “You’re ruining your whole life” along with “You can’t raise a child.”

  So what did I do? I did what every normal soon-to-be twenty-year-old mother did. I accepted my admittance into design school in Paris. Not in America, where I had a semi-support system. Nope, not me. I packed my things, and two weeks later, I was on my way to the fashion capital of the world with a baby bump starting to grow.

  It wasn’t easy. Fuck, living in a strange city while not speaking the language was the hardest thing I think I’d done. That and the fact I was the only one in class with a baby on the way didn’t leave much opportunity for making friends. But instead of wallowing and partying every night, I kept my head down and graduated ahead of schedule. I pushed myself because I knew that the minute Aiden was born, my plan was to take a semester off. But I couldn’t sit idle for very long, and a month after I had Aiden, sleep deprived and all, I signed up for online courses and graduated on time with everyone else.

  He is my pride and joy, and I don’t regret having him for one minute.

  “Mommy!” I hear Aiden yell my name from somewhere in the house. “Grandpa said it’s time for breakfast.”

  I take my final stretch. Yelling, “Coming,” I throw the covers off me and grab my robe to head downstairs. “Good morning,” I tell the three of them when I get to the kitchen. My father has Aiden on his hip, showing him the food trucks that are setting up. “Don’t you think this is a touch extreme?” I ask, hugging my mother who stands at the island pouring us both a cup of coffee. I pick up my cup and walk over to Aiden and my father and look outside. There are even more workers in the backyard now.

  “I’ve missed five birthdays,” my father says, looking over at me. I want to roll my eyes because he didn’t miss any birthdays. He and my mother flew in each year, no matter what day of the week it fell on. This is just the first one he’s had in America. “Besides, he’s my only grandchild.” I take a sip of coffee and roll my eyes. “So I have a surprise for both of you,” he says, and I close my eyes because I can’t even imagine what he has in store for us now. My father is the most generous man I have ever known. His family came from the South, growing cotton, so he was born into money. If you listen closely enough, you will hear his bayou accent. He shocked his family by going into law instead of the family business. He worked his ass off and refused to take any handouts. Now he has one of the most sought-after law firms around.

  “What did you do? Did you buy him a pony?” I joke but hold my breath because it would be just like him. “You didn’t buy him a pony, did you?” I hiss and then look at my mother, who just stands there grinning.

  “No, silly,” he says, looking at me and kissing Aiden’s cheek. “We bought you a house.”

  “What?” I shriek. Looking at him and then my mother, I put my
cup of coffee down on the table. “What?” I say again but now with my hands.

  “Nice going, Leonard,” my mother says. She walks over to the stove to take the pancake off, and then she opens the oven to take out the sausage and the bacon. She slides off the baking mitts and starts to plate everything, then she looks at my father. “You were supposed to ease her into it, Leonard.”

  My father rolls his eyes. “Maryse,” he says softly. He always sounds like that when he talks to my mother. “Honey.” He now looks at me. “It’s more for Aiden than it is for you.” He starts with the guilt trip first before anything else. “You said that you didn’t want to live here, so …” He puts Aiden down, who runs to the table to eat the pancakes my mother just finished plating. “So this is a happy medium.”

  “How is this a happy medium, Dad?” I look over at my mother, who sits at the table to cut up Aiden’s pancake. “Did you see this house?” I ask her.

  “I did, and it’s beautiful.” She smiles at me, handing Aiden back his plate and leaning over to kiss his cheek.

  “You lived in a shoe box in Paris.” My father sits down, putting food onto his plate. “Aiden had nowhere to run and play. Now that he’s home, he should have the backyard he deserves.”

  “Dad,” I say, sitting down at the table now, but he just puts up his hand.

  “Please, honey, let me do this for you and Aiden.” He looks at me, and I can see the hurt in his eyes.

  “Dad, I can afford my own house,” I say. “I have a job.” I’m an interior designer, and I work directly with contractors and designers to stage their projects.

  “I know you can, honey,” he says, taking a bite of pancake. “But—” He stops talking when my mother cuts in.

  “What your father is trying to say and failing at miserably is that he’s sorry for how he acted all those years ago. And he wants to make it up to you,” she says, looking at my father, who just glares at her.

  “I don’t know why it’s so hard for you to say sorry, Leonard. She isn’t a client. You can mess up.” She takes a sip of coffee and smiles at him. “And for the record, you messed up big time.” My parents have been together for forty years. They grew up one street away from each other and hung with the same crowds, but only really started something when my father went away to Harvard to study law.

  They started dating when he came back for Christmas break, and things just clicked. He cherishes the ground she walks on and will do whatever he has to just to see her smile.

  “Aiden.” Dad looks over at him. “Do you know how to ride a bike?” he asks him.

  “Oui,” Yes, he answers in French.

  “That’s good.” He drinks some coffee. “What sports do you like to play?”

  “I like to play football,” he answers, syrup dripping down his chin.

  “Football?” my father asks.

  “It’s soccer, Dad,” I say. “It’s called football in Europe.”

  “Great,” he says. “I’m going to ask around and get him on a team.”

  “That would be great,” I say. “Tomorrow, we are going to check out the new school.”

  “Yeah, I’m going to grade one.” He puts out his hand with one finger held up to show my parents.

  We finish breakfast, and my mother washes off Aiden’s sticky hands and mouth. “Did you get any syrup in your mouth?” she asks while tickling his stomach.

  “Let’s go get you dressed for the party,” I say, grabbing his hand and walking upstairs. My parents had someone come in and decorate the spare room for him. It has all his pictures from school with little touches here and there of me and him or my parents and him. His clothes are all in boxes minus what I packed in the little luggage I brought. I grab a pair of khaki pants with a white button-down shirt.

  “Don’t get dirty.” I tap his nose with my finger while putting on his socks. “Go get your shoes,” I say, getting up from my knees and going to my room. I hear him somewhere in the house calling for my father.

  I walk to my open suitcase, tossing things around to find something to wear. I take out a tube top maxi dress, then toss more stuff around to finally find the brown braided belt and my light blue jean jacket. I take everything with me to the shower and start getting ready. When I put on my strapless bra, I look at all the changes my body’s had over the years.

  My body has changed ever since I had Aiden; my hips are rounder and my breasts, although only a C, sag just a touch from breastfeeding. I shimmy myself into the dress, grabbing the belt to tie around my waist. It’s still the same size from before I had him, which is thanks to Pilates and yoga. I pin my blond hair on top of my head, putting on pink lip gloss and a touch of mascara. “Mom.” Aiden knocks on the bathroom door. “Grandpa said we can go outside now.” I open it, seeing that he’s standing there jumping up and down and waving his hands anxiously. “It’s party time.”

  “Okay, Cherie,” I use his French nickname, slipping on my brown sandals and putting on my jean jacket, then rolling up the cuffs. “Are you ready to go?” I ask him, and he just grabs my hand, pulling me toward the door. We walk to the backyard, and I stand on the porch in shock. I find my father off to the side talking to one of the guys. “Dad,” I call him, and he looks over at us and waves. “Don’t you think it’s a touch overboard?”

  “It’s nothing.” He flips his hand. “Aiden, let’s go take a ride on the roller coaster,” he says, more excited than Aiden.

  “Holy shit.” I hear from behind me as I see my mother coming outside wearing a yellow sundress and white hat. “It looks like a carnival.”

  “It looks like the carnival vomited all over your backyard.” I laugh, and she walks down the steps, going to my father as he sits in the roller coaster at the front with Aiden next to him. They both put their hands up while it goes up and down.

  For two hours, Aiden runs around, going from one ride to the next as people start to slowly arrive. Almost everyone comes up to me to welcome me home. I keep my eyes on Aiden and finally catch his attention, telling him to come eat. He runs over to me with his arms waving in the air and a smile plastered on his face. “Are you having so much fun?” I ask him, brushing his hair away from his eyes.

  “The bestest time, Maman,” he says, and we walk over to where the food is. He chooses to eat a corn dog, and I sit down with him at one of the white tables. He dips it in ketchup, licking the ketchup off, and then dipping it again only this time biting it. “I want to go and ride the train with Grandpa.” He tries to lick the ketchup from his face. I take Wet Ones and wipe his face, then get up and look around for my dad when my blue eyes meet the brown that I look into every day. He stares at me, and then he looks down at Aiden, who is holding my hand, and he takes a step back. I see his lips move, saying my name. The ground is suddenly spinning around me, or maybe it’s my head that is spinning. I don’t know what is happening. One minute, I’m standing here looking into eyes I thought I would never see again, and the next, I’m being dragged to them by my son.

  When we are finally face-to-face, my father beams with pride. “Honey, this is Luca. A fellow Harvard graduate, he graduated first in his class, and we were lucky enough to get him.” He smiles at him, and my mouth stays dry. My heart beats so fast it sounds like the stampede scene in The Lion King, and my chest is heaving as though I just ran a marathon. “Luca, this is my daughter, Eliahn, and my grandson, Aiden.”

  He looks at me, his eyes blinking. I’m watching his eyes and wondering if he knows that Aiden is his. I’m waiting for him to say something, fuck, anything at this point. Waiting for him to bolt. But he doesn’t. Instead, his eyes go even darker, and he looks like he is going to fucking explode. “Nice to meet you, Eliahn.” He puts out his hand to take mine. I reach out, not sure what is going on. Could it be he doesn’t remember me? I haven’t changed, and we weren’t drunk. Should I be offended? I think I’m offended, so I pull my hand back out of his reach.

  “Pleasure,” I say, putting my hand around Aiden’s shoulder and bringing
him closer to me, almost putting him behind me. His arm goes around my leg as he leans into my hip, not sure what to do.

  “And this is your grandson?” Luca asks, squatting in front of Aiden.

  “That is Aiden,” my father says, and then he must see someone because he looks at us. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to say hello to someone,” he says and walks away.

  “So, Aiden, how old are you?” Luca asks him, and the pressure on my chest feels like someone is stomping on it.

  “Six,” he says. Luca stands up and looks at me while Aiden asks me, “Can I go with Grandpa?”

  I just nod my head, turning to watch him run to my father and my father taking him in his arms. I barely turn around, and I don’t notice that Luca is now closer than he was before, and his smell is still the same.

  “He’s mine,” Luca says, but I don’t know if he’s asking me or stating it. “That’s our son?” I look at him and expect for it to be okay, but how fucking wrong am I. Nothing is okay. Seven years ago, he looked like a boy, but now the person in front of me is a man. A beautiful man, a man who still makes my breath catch and my stomach flutter. “Answer the question, Eli,” he says, looking at Aiden and then back at me again. “Am I his father?”

  I look down and then look up at him, my breath hitching when I answer him. “He’s yours.”

  “Oh my God,” he says quietly. Turning, he starts to walk away but then turns around and comes back. “Where is your phone?” he demands, putting out his hand.

  I cross my arms over my chest. “You know my name now, Luca,” I tell him. “You also know where I live. Who my father is!” I hiss the last part.

  “Well, unless you want me asking your father for your phone number …” he starts and comes closer, so close I can smell his cologne again. This time, I let my mind wander back to the little room on the cruise where I learned every single inch of his body. “… and explaining why I need to speak to you,” he says between clenched teeth, “I suggest you give me your phone number.”