Claiming His Love-Child. Sandra Marton

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      HOURS later, in a jet halfway over the Atlantic, Cullen looked at the flight attendant hovering over him in the darkened comfort of the first-class cabin.

      “No coffee for me, thanks,” he told her.

      “No supper? No dessert? Would you like something else, Mr. O’Connell?”

      Cullen shook his head. “I spent the weekend at a wedding in Sicily.”

      The flight attendant grinned. “Ah. That explains it. How about some ice water?”

      “That would be perfect.”

      Truth was, he didn’t want the water, either, but she meant well and he had the feeling saying “yes” to something was the only way he’d convince her to leave him alone. She brought the glass, he took a perfunctory sip, then put it aside, switched off the overhead light, put his seat all the way back and closed his eyes.

      Whatever had been bothering him had faded away. Talking to Sean had done it, or maybe all that goofing around in the garden. Everyone except Keir and Cassie, their mother and stepfather had ended up in the pool again. Well, Stefano and Fallon hadn’t been there, either, but nobody had expected them to be. After that, they’d all changed to dry clothes, the mood had mellowed and they’d sat around in the encroaching darkness, talking quietly, reminiscing about the past.

      One by one, the O’Connells had finally drifted off to bed. All but Cullen, who, it turned out, was the only one of them who’d made arrangements to fly home that night instead of the next day.

      On the way to the airport, he’d thought about the ideas that had floated through his mind earlier. Going to Nantucket instead of straight home, or to Colorado, or someplace in Europe…

      Why would he do that?

      Whatever had been bugging him was long gone. He’d climbed out of the back seat of Stefano’s limousine feeling relaxed and lazy, gone to the first-class check-in line, had time for a coffee prior to boarding.

      He still felt relaxed. He liked flying at night. The black sky outside the cabin, the gray shadows inside, the sense that you were in a cocoon halfway between the stars and the earth.

      That was how he’d felt that night after he’d taken Marissa to bed. Holding her in his arms, feeling her warm and soft against him until she’d suddenly stiffened, started to pull away.

      “I have to go,” she’d said, but he’d drawn her close again, kissed her, touched her until she moaned his name and then he’d been moving above her, inside her, holding back, not letting go because she wasn’t letting go, because he had the feeling she’d never flown free before and the first time it happened, it was damn well going to be with him…

      “Damn,” he said softly.

      Cullen’s eyes flew open. He put his seat up, folded his arms and glowered into the darkness.

      So much for feeling nice and relaxed.

      This was stupid. Worse than stupid. It was senseless. Why was Marissa in his head? He hadn’t seen her since that night. She’d left his bed while he was sleeping, hadn’t shown up to take him to the airport, hadn’t answered her phone when he called. Not that morning, not any of the times he’d tried to reach her after he was home again.

      He always got her answering machine.

      You’ve reached Marissa Perez. Please leave a brief message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.

      His last message had been brief, all right, even curt.

      “It’s Cullen O’Connell,” he’d said. “You want to talk to me, you have my number.”

      She’d hadn’t phoned. Not once. Her silence spoke for itself. They’d slept together, it had been fun, and that was that. No return visits, no instant replays. End of story.

      Fine with him. The trouble with most women was that you couldn’t get rid of them even after you explained, politely, that it was over.

      Cullen? It’s Amy. I know what you said, but I was thinking…

      Cullen? It’s Jill. About what we decided the other night…

      Marissa Perez took an admirable approach to sex. A man’s approach. She took what she wanted and shut the door on what she didn’t. That didn’t bother him. It didn’t bother him at all.

      Why would it?

      For all he gave a damn, she could have slept with a dozen men since that night with him. After all, he’d had several women in his life since that weekend. Okay, he hadn’t taken any of them to bed, but so what? He’d been working his tail off. Besides, a short break from sex was a good thing. It only heightened the pleasure in the future.

      Tomorrow, he’d phone the blonde he’d met at that cocktail party last week. Or the attorney from Dunham and Busch with the red hair and the big smile. She’d come on to him like crazy.

      Definitely, he’d celebrate his homecoming with a woman who’d be happy to take his calls and happy to see him. And he’d sleep with her, make love until crazy thoughts about Marissa Perez were purged from his mind. Surely, his memories of that night were skewed.

      Cullen muttered a couple of raw words under his breath as he sat up and switched on his overhead light. To hell with what time it was in New York. The blonde from last week was a party animal. This hour of the night, she was probably just coming in the door.

      He dug his address book and his cell phone from his pocket, tapped in her number. She answered after two rings, her voice husky with sleep.

      “H’lo,” she said. “Whoever you are, you’d better be somebody I really СКАЧАТЬ