My Father's Best Friend(6)

By: Fiona Davenport



If it was negative, then I would once again be no closer to finding Samuel’s child and hopefully, closure.

Either way, I knew taking her to dinner was a bad idea. Especially without telling her who I really was, which I couldn’t do until I had the results anyway. I was being stupid and selfish, but I wanted time with her. Before the realities of our situation intruded.

I worked from the hotel the next two days, digging into the lives of Hanna and Delilah Brooks. I kept telling myself I would do it, but I never did end up making the call to put a rush on the test.

Monday night approached, and I’d almost convinced myself that I would be able to keep my distance from her. Even while taking her to dinner. I was simply being a good friend, caring for Samuel’s daughter, making sure she was all right.

It was utter bullshit and at some point, I was going to have to stop lying to myself. That point stabbed me in the chest the moment Lilah opened the door for our date. Damn, she was beautiful.

Her hair was pulled to one side and wrapped in a bun thing, exposing the length of her elegant neck. She wore a pale-pink sweater that did everything for her generous breasts and a swishy black skirt that showed far too much of her creamy thighs when she backed up to let me in. Her knee-high, black, high-heeled boots begged to be the sole piece of clothing on her luscious body when I fucked her.

Her blue eyes sparkled with delight and plump, glossy lips lifted in a welcoming smile. Even with her womanly, practically sinful curves, there was an innocence about her that kept me from losing all control.

Instead of following her inside, I retreated a few feet. Not going into the house alone with her was a miracle. Two more and I’d be eligible for sainthood, I scoffed to myself silently. I didn’t see that happening in this lifetime because this was the moment when I knew the struggle was pointless. I was going to do whatever it took to make Lilah mine.

She looked confused and I stepped forward again, reaching out to run a finger down the soft skin of her cheek. “Grab your coat, baby girl,” I told her with a smile. “I’m starving.”

Her grin lit up her whole face, and I nearly groaned in pain as my gut twisted and my balls tightened from the sight. She disappeared for a moment before returning with a light coat and joining me outside, then locking her door. I snatched the coat from her hands and held it open for her to slip her arms inside. My head drifted down and I inhaled the scent permeating from her bared skin. The spicy aroma was intoxicating.

A growl of protest slipped from my chest involuntarily when she moved away. Lilah flipped around to face me and once again, I was bowled over by her enchanting innocence. If only she knew the thoughts that were flooding my mind.

“Ready?” she asked sweetly. I nodded and took her hand, lacing our fingers together. The blush that stole over her cheeks was going to be the death of me. I’d taken a cab and instructed him to wait, so I led Lilah over and helped her in before sliding onto the cracked, leather bench seat beside her.

The cabbie dropped us at a quaint little Italian place a few blocks from her apartment on the Upper East Side. She laughed as we climbed out of the vehicle.

“We could have walked, you know.”

I frowned as I opened the restaurant door for her, glancing down at her sexy, impractical footwear. She giggled again and something warm exploded in my chest.

“I’m a New Yorker and a woman. My feet have long since stopped trying to convince me to wear comfortable shoes.” She winked, then sashayed past me. My hand itched to smack her sweet little ass, but I stifled the urge and followed her to the hostess podium.

Once we were seated and had ordered, I went back to her previous comment. It was the perfect opening. “You grew up in New York?” I asked, knowing full well that she hadn’t. Once I knew her name, I learned everything there was to know about my girl.

“No, we moved here from a small town in Florida when I was fourteen.” The twinkle in her eyes dulled slightly. “My mom had been fighting cancer for a couple of years and they started an experimental drug treatment at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center, so we moved here.”

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, covering one of her hands with my own. “It must have been hard to move away from your home and then lose your mother so quickly after.”

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