Her Secret Weapon. Beverly Barton
years?
“Give Seamus a kiss from his mother and tell him I’ll be home to read him a bedtime story and tuck him in tonight.”
One of the stipulations she’d made perfectly clear concerning her position as Burke’s PA was that unless she had to travel with him, she would be home each night in time to put her son to bed. Burke had agreed, had even commended her on being a good parent, but he’d never questioned her about her child or the fact that she was an unmarried woman. She hadn’t lied on her job application. She would never lie about Seamus.
And what will you do if Burke ever asks you about your son’s father? her inner voice taunted.
If and when that time came, she would know what to do, what to say. Wouldn’t she?
Burke drank coffee from a Royal Doulton cup. He had picked up the habit of drinking coffee from his military stepfather, Gene Harmon, who had been a colonel in the United States Army. Gene had introduced him to some high-ranking government officials when, as a young college freshman, Burke had shown an interest in the FBI and the CIA. Little had Gene known that those entrees would bring Burke to the attention of an organization that would mold and shape him into the man he was today. As an operative for the top-secret SPEAR agency, his life was only partially his own. Lonigan’s Imports and Exports had been funded by SPEAR, and even though Burke’s expertise helped maintain the company’s extraordinary success, his job required far more from him than simply acting the part of a rich London businessman.
When SPEAR had sent him to London fifteen years ago, he’d understood why, of all the top young agents, he had been the one chosen for this position. He was, after all, London born, with a father who still resided there. No one would question why he’d returned to the U.K. to live.
SPEAR’s head honcho, a man known only as Jonah, had telephoned Burke late last night, both using cellular phones that possessed special scrambling security frequencies. Burke had been up until dawn putting into action a preliminary plan for his latest assignment. Making use of all his contacts, he had sent out word that a certain arms shipment, very much wanted by a man named Simon, had by circuitous route made its way into Burke Lonigan’s control. Being known the world over by certain people as an illegal arms dealer placed Burke in the perfect position to carry out his latest job for the agency.
Now, all he had to do was wait. Wait for the notorious Simon to make the next move. Every top SPEAR agent had been called into the war against this man—a traitor determined to bring down the entire agency. Burke and his comrades were united in an effort to eliminate the lethal threat Simon posed to the agency. But until it was time for Burke’s next move in this strategic game with the enemy, it would be business as usual for Lonigan’s Imports and Exports.
A soft knock sounded on the outer door. Burke lifted his head just in time to lock gazes with his personal assistant. The lovely, elusive and very-disturbing-to-a-man’s-libido Callie Severin breezed into his office, a tentative smile on her face.
“Good morning, Mr. Lonigan. Or should I say good afternoon?” Callie sat in the chair across from Burke’s desk, crossed her ankles and folded her hands in her lap.
Had he heard just a hint of censure in her voice? Burke wondered. What had her in a snit? “It is noon, isn’t it?” He chuckled pleasantly. “Are you upset with me for some reason?”
“No, of course not. Why should I be? What you do in your personal life is none of my concern.”
“My personal life?” He grinned broadly. “Ah, I see. You assume my tardiness is due to my having spent the night in some fair damsel’s boudoir, making mad passionate love until dawn.”
He liked the way Callie blushed. Few women blushed these days. But then she had the complexion for it. Pale and creamy, without a hint of a freckle despite her dark auburn hair and smoky gray eyes.
“As I said, it’s none of my—”
“None of your concern.” He finished her sentence.
She nodded.
“I’ve ordered in a meal for us,” he told her. “I’m afraid I must impose on you to help me get an important dinner party planned and then I must ask an enormous favor of you.”
“Doing my job is not imposing on me,” she said. “And please, ask your favor.”
“I’ll need a hostess for this affair. Naturally I’ll pay for your dress and provide the right jewelry and—”
“Isn’t there someone else more suited than I am to serve as your hostess?” she asked, nervously rubbing her hands together. “I’m sure Lady Ashley or Mrs. Odum-Hyde would—”
“Lady Ashley is in Paris visiting her sister, and Mrs. Odum-Hyde has landed herself a Brussels diamond broker and is now wearing a ring the size of an apple.”
Callie giggled. Burke liked her giggle, too. Girlish, yet throaty and seductive. If he were totally honest with himself, he’d have to admit that he liked everything about Callie. She was more than competent at her job. Actually she was the best PA he’d ever had.
But something about her bothered him. Not that he didn’t trust her. He did. Implicitly. Her background check had given him every reason to think highly of her—as a PA and as a person. A master’s degree from the Owen Graduate School of Management at Vanderbilt University and glowing recommendations from her previous employers had been the reasons he’d hired her. That and the fact he had immediately liked her when he’d interviewed her. She’d been nervous, but charming.
She was a bright, hardworking young lady with an impeccable work record. He knew she was unmarried and yet was the mother of a small child. If he remembered correctly, the child was almost two. Although he had never questioned her about anything remotely personal, he couldn’t help wondering about her child’s father. What sort of man could have walked away from a woman such as Callie and deserted his own child?
Not much of a man, Burke thought.
I’ve never been with a real man, only a self-centered boy. The words echoed inside Burke’s mind, but he had no idea who had said them or when. Had some woman he had bedded spoken those words? If so, why couldn’t he remember the woman or the incident? Could it have been that night two years ago? He vaguely remembered drowning his sorrows at the Princess Inn after he’d been told his father had died and the family had turned him away. And occasionally, through the fog of his subconscious, he could almost make out the face of the woman who had gone home with him that night.
“Is something wrong?” Callie asked.
“What? No, nothing’s wrong. Why do you ask?”
“You had a most peculiar look on your face, as if you were in pain.”
“You can alleviate any pain I might be experiencing if you agree to act as my hostess next week.”
“Of course, I’d be delighted to act as your hostess.”
“Good, then that’s settled.”
When he rose from his desk chair, Callie stood. She was only a wisp of a girl—no, not a girl, he thought. A woman. She was twenty-seven and a mother. Hardly a girl. Size wise, she was just shy of being petite. Short, small-boned, fragile. Round in all the right places, with a slender waist. Not skinny like so many of the young women were today.
His stepfather had often told his mother, “I like a woman with some flesh on her bones.” Mary Kate Lonigan Harmon had been a plump, black-haired beauty, who had passed her striking black Irish looks on to her only son and to her two daughters, Kathleen and Fiona, who had been fathered by Gene Harmon.
And like his stepfather, Burke preferred a woman with some flesh on her bones. Callie fit the description quite nicely. Although he had more sophisticated, more elegant ladies at his disposal, Burke fancied Callie and had since the first day she walked into his office. He couldn’t understand why he was so attracted to her, more so than to any woman he’d ever met.
Knowing better than