Or was it something more? Aiden had been very tender and affectionate, but there were no words of endearment, no mention of love. Why would there be? He probably had taken dozens of women to his bed in the past; why would she be different? Her heart ached just a little, but she wouldn’t let herself dwell on the negative. Last night had been fantastic. She would file it away as a wonderful memory and move on.
A hot shower revitalized her . . . sort of, anyway. Aiden had mentioned that he expected her to go somewhere with him today, but he hadn’t told her where. Knowing Aiden, jeans wouldn’t be appropriate wherever he was taking her. She decided to wear one of the lovely dresses Miss Marie had insisted she add to her wardrobe. It was a deep purple dress with a jewel neck, long sleeves, and a flared skirt. She slipped into her favorite nude heels. She didn’t want to mess with her hair, so she pulled it up in a ponytail, applied her perfume, and was ready to go.
Breakfast was waiting for her. The table was set for one, and on the place mat were a bottle of Diet Coke and a silver bowl of ice with a container of blueberry yogurt. There was also a basket of croissants and pastries and another basket filled with fruit. She didn’t eat much, just a little of her yogurt, because Aiden had left her a note telling her he was taking her to lunch at the Empire and to be ready at noon.
While she sipped her Diet Coke she answered e-mails. There were more than thirty of them, several from students begging her to return to school. They were having trouble with their chemistry class and blamed the teachers. Apparently the first teacher Sister Delores had hired for the summer school session had lasted one week before he had had enough and quit. According to one student’s e-mail they were going through teachers faster than they could scarf down a bag of Doritos. The impassioned pleas tugged at Cordie’s heartstrings. The boys could be difficult, but they weren’t impossible to handle. All it took was a firm hand, patience, and a sense of humor. She was surprised by how much she already missed them.
She saved the longest e-mail she had to write for last. She knew Sophie and Regan were waiting to hear how it was going, and it took a while for her to put her tumultuous thoughts into words. She told them a little about the ball and seeing Simone with her doting family. She also mentioned Simone’s ridiculous fainting spell and promised to give them more details when she got back to Chicago. Cordie was sorry she hadn’t tried to sneak a couple of photos with her smartphone to send, but she hadn’t thought about it until she was on her way back to the hotel. Yes, it was a missed opportunity, and she doubted she would get another chance, because Aiden had informed her they would be returning to Chicago tomorrow after a meeting he had scheduled in the morning. She was ready to go home. She had accomplished what she had set out to do, and now she wanted to get as far away from the Rayburns as possible.
It was only after she had sent the e-mail that she realized she hadn’t said much about Aiden. Would her friends think that was odd? Even though Sophie and Regan were her closest friends, she didn’t want them to know she’d slept with him. Besides, she had convinced herself that what had happened with Aiden was a fluke, and it would never happen again.
The last e-mail she sent was to Alec telling him she had met his friend Liam Scott and how charismatic she thought the man was. She had just one question: Which side of the law was he on?
At eleven thirty she texted Aiden and told him she wanted to stop in the gift shop and she would meet him in the lobby by the atrium at noon. She tossed her sunglasses and phone into her purse, applied lip gloss, and was heading to the elevator when the hotel phone rang. On the chance it might be Aiden she was quick to answer.
She didn’t recognize the man’s voice, but it was pleasant.
“Is Andrew Kane there? I’d like to talk to him.”
That question got her attention. “Who is calling?” she asked.
“A friend.”
“Your name?” she pressed politely.
“A friend,” he said again, but this time his voice wasn’t quite so pleasant.
All right, then . . . if that was how he wanted to play it. “Mr. Andrew Kane is not available.”
“When will he be back?”
“I couldn’t say.”
“What about the daughter? Is she available?”
“No,” she answered.
Before she could demand an explanation, he responded with, “Thank you. I’ll try again later,” and hung up.
She replaced the phone and fell back against the credenza. What was that all about? A burst of anger seized her. Simone had to be behind the call. Who else could it be? And evidently she thought Cordie’s father was still alive. The way she had reacted to seeing Cordie at the ball made it perfectly clear she wasn’t going to spread the word anytime soon that she had an illegitimate daughter she had abandoned. If word got out, it would ruin her standing in the community. Women who threw their babies away didn’t win Mother of the Year. The caller was either related to Simone or worked for her, right? That was the only thing that made sense. But what did Simone want?
Cordie’s hands were shaking. The call had rattled her, but now that she thought about it, she shouldn’t be surprised. She certainly had made it easy for Simone to find her. Not only had she put the letter in a Hamilton Hotel envelope, but she had also been at Aiden’s side, and practically everyone in Sydney society knew who he was. There might as well have been a neon arrow over the hotel pointing to her whereabouts.
Now what? Cordie couldn’t squelch her anger long enough to think like a logical person. She didn’t know what she should do—if anything. She decided to put it aside for now, until she could think clearly and calmly. The gift shop. She suddenly remembered she was heading downstairs to buy a bottle of the hotel’s special body lotion. Maybe by the time she met Aiden for lunch she could be reasonable again.
The lobby was crowded with guests checking in and out. She skirted her way around a large group of businessmen and headed to the corridor that led to the gift shop. Adjacent to the hallway was a beautiful floor-to-ceiling crackled mirror and in front of it was a mahogany table with a huge vase of fresh-cut flowers. The colors were spectacular, and Cordie stopped to admire the arrangement. As she was leaning over to take in the wonderful fragrance of the hyacinths, she glanced into the mirror and froze. Over her right shoulder she saw the reflection of Simone Rayburn walking toward the front desk. There were two men behind her, and Cordie couldn’t tell if they were with Simone or not. Wearing dark suits with solid conservative ties, they reminded her of CIA agents she’d seen in movies: stiff and unapproachable. One of them was of medium height with a stocky build and thick, wavy hair. His bushy eyebrows shaded dark eyes with deep lines around them, and his mouth seemed to be dragged down by the Fu Manchu mustache that ended at his jowl line. The other man with him was tall. His head was bald, most likely shaved to give a strong, manly appearance, but his attempt to be macho was contradicted by the round wire-rimmed glasses that made him look like a midlife-crisis Harry Potter. The two men followed at a discreet distance, and when Simone stopped at the desk, they paused, too. They were definitely with her. They were looking around the lobby, and Cordie knew they would eventually spot her once the crowd thinned out.
“Cordelia?” Louis, the general manager of the hotel, was walking toward her from the hallway.