Okay, so that’s how we’re going to play it.
That was fine with Clover. She could play chick dirty with the best of them. Of course, she couldn’t do that with Sawyer around. Mama Bear here wanted to deliver a message and drive it home with a verbal stiletto and, unless the world had started spinning in the opposite direction, she wouldn’t do it with her son around. So be it. She wasn’t about to let the Dragon Lady see her sweat.
Pasting on a socially-acceptable fake smile of her own, Clover turned toward Sawyer. “A glass of champagne would be wonderful.”
One eyebrow shot above the top of his black-rimmed glasses, but she went up on tiptoe and brushed a kiss across his cheek before he could protest. He looked on the verge of saying something, but after a quick look from his mom to her, he nodded.
“As you wish,” he said and crossed over to the bar set up next to a fireplace big enough to walk inside.
Did he… She shook her head. No way was Sawyer Carlyle the kind of guy to quote The Princess Bride.
“Let me show you some of my favorite photos of my boys.” Helene slipped her arm through Clover’s as if they were sisters in some old movie about pioneers and led Clover over to the baby grand piano.
Framed family photos sat on top of its closed lid. On vacation at a ski resort. At a beach. Aboard a yacht. Each one showing off the Carlyles with their big, open smiles and easy togetherness. She picked out Sawyer right away. Even as a little boy in a dirty baseball uniform he had a stubborn set to his chin.
“How about neither of us insults the other’s intelligence and you tell me what’s going on?” Helene asked, an icy hardness to her voice that didn’t match the calm, borderline aloof expression on her patrician face.
Clover glanced around the room filled with men in suits and women in little black dresses. “Looks like a cocktail party to me.”
The other woman’s gaze narrowed and her pasted on smile faltered. “Is it a matter of money?”
Oh no. She went there. “Excuse me?”
“Disappear and I’ll have my financial manager cut a check.”
“Wow. How much?” She shouldn’t have said it, but there was no way she could let Helene get away without busting her chops for this bullshit.
Helene lifted the photo of young, baseball-playing Sawyer and showed it to Clover. From a distance, it had to look like two people having a friendly chat about how hard it was for the housekeeper to keep Sawyer’s white uniform pants clean. “Sign a non-disclosure agreement and a contract saying you’ll cut off all contact immediately and I’ll make it worth your while.”
She threw out the biggest number she could think of that didn’t make her sound like a bad Bond villain. “Half a million?”
“Yes,” Helene said without blinking.
Damn. If she was another kind of person, that offer would be beyond tempting. “No deal.”
“You want more?” The other woman sighed and put down the photo. “How much will it take?”
Clover couldn’t resist taking another poke at her. “One point five.”
“You learn quickly.” Helene nodded. “But not a penny more.”
“Is it always just about money for you?” Clover shook her head. “No deal. Honestly, there’s no amount of money you can offer me to stop me from marrying your son.”
Helene arched an eyebrow in a way that was almost an exact copy of her son. “You’re not the first to try this. Everyone has their price.”
Ouch. Now that had to have hurt him. If she wasn’t so annoyed with Helene’s attitude, she’d totally be on the other woman’s side. “I’m different.”
“I’m sure you like to think so.” She turned and flashed a brilliant smile at Sawyer who was only a few steps away, close enough to end the conversation but too far to have caught any of it. “There you are. We were afraid you’d gotten lost, and I have some people I’d like you to meet.”
Helene turned and nodded at a pair of women standing near the open door to the balcony. They were tall, blonde, and—Clover’s breath hissed out in surprise—the women from the other day at Sawyer’s office. Looked like Mommy Dearest here wasn’t about to go silently into the good night and give up her Marry Off Sawyer to someone of her choosing campaign.
“Alamak,” she muttered one of her Singapore students’ favorite expressions of shock under her breath. It fit particularly well here since it translated to: oh, my mother!
Beside her, Sawyer stiffened and let out a quiet—but impressively creative—stream of curses before setting two champagne flutes on the piano. “You’ve got to be kidding, Mom.”
Helene took a delicate sip of her champagne. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Those are the wife candidates you wanted me to take to lunch the other day.” Sawyer’s jaw bulged as he clamped it down tight as if he were afraid of what else would come out.
“Yes,” Helene said.
“I.” The word came out deceptively even as he whisper-shouted them. “Am. Engaged.”
Helene lifted her shoulders in a bored shrug. “I don’t see a ring, and until you’re in the church…”
The other woman let her words trail off, their meaning as clear as the Waterford crystal in her hand. Helene wasn’t about to give up on her original plan. Sawyer growled—literally—and his neck corded. It didn’t take an expert to realize that Sawyer was about ten seconds away from going full-on Hulk, all the while the wife-to-be twins were bearing down on them.
Shit. She had to do something. This was her job, and she was making a total mess of it. Instead of sitting here gaping like a very entertained fish out of water while Sawyer and his mom quietly fought like rich people did, she needed to do something. Now. The idea was only half formed, but she grabbed ahold of it and blindly jumped.
“Maybe this will do as a reminder until then,” she said, drawing both their attention. She grabbed Sawyer by the lapels, yanked him lower, and laid a kiss on him.
At first, he didn’t respond and Clover had half a second to think oh shit! before Sawyer took her face between his palms and deepened the kiss. She couldn’t pinpoint the moment the kiss went from for-the-job to oh-my-God-take-me-now but by the time he pulled away, her hair was messed up, her lips swollen, and her entire body was primed for more. A little punch drunk, she stumbled just a bit as she snuggled into Sawyer’s side to face-off with the Dragon Lady and her minions.
All of the icy coolness was gone from Helene’s face, replaced by a heated glare and a stubborn set to her jaw—the original to her son’s replica. Without waiting for whatever sharpened verbal knife Helene was about to unsheathe, Clover spoke up.