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“Congratulate me, gentlemen,” he announced, accepting his own glass from Sawyer. “You’re looking at the new owner of the Wentworth’s Elmer Street property.”
Hawk’s eyebrows shot up. “You’ve bought another Wentworth property in London?”
“Only a minor one.”
“And let me guess,” Sawyer said, “you did not reveal yourself in this real-estate deal, either.”
“Only to those who know the exact constituency of the firm Halbridge Properties,” Colin returned blandly.
Hawk shook his head in resignation. “You got Halbridge from combining Halstead and Easterbridge, I suppose. Clever.”
Colin said nothing.
“You’re in deep waters,” Hawk commented finally.
Sawyer nodded his head in agreement. “Be careful, Easterbridge. Much as I admire your prowess in business, you’re in uncharted territory here.”
“I’m used to high stakes,” Colin replied blandly, raising his glass in anticipation of a toast to the new arrival. “Bring it on.”
Belinda looked down at the newborn Viscount Averil sleeping in his crib and her heart constricted. Tamara and Sawyer had named the baby Elliott, but by virtue of his father’s name and position, he carried a courtesy title and thus was styled Elliott Langsford, Viscount Averil.
Belinda cast a glance around the nursery, done in shades of soft gray and white, before looking down at the baby again. She, Pia and a proud but tired Tamara hovered over the crib.
Two days ago, Belinda reflected, she’d again had the best sex of her life. It had been glorious, liberating and disconcerting at the same time. If she was in the same room as Colin, she wanted to throw herself at him. And from the looks of him, Colin stood ready to catch her at a moment’s notice.
Yet, she knew it was temporary. Their agreement was for two years. There would never be a sleeping baby with downy skin making soft breathing noises, his torso rising and falling with every rapid beat of his heart. She and Colin had used protection to ensure it.
Belinda swallowed. She told herself that her emotion stemmed from the fact that she wouldn’t be a mother at least until after she and Colin parted ways. Of course, she didn’t want to become pregnant. Of course—it wasn’t part of her understanding with Colin.
“Should we sit down?” Pia whispered, looking from Tamara to Belinda and back.
Belinda shot Tamara a look of concern.
Tamara’s smile was weary but transcendent. “Only if I have a donut pillow to sit on.”
Pia giggled and then all three of them moved toward the doorway and into the adjacent playroom.
Tamara sat in a rocking chair while Pia removed a stuffed giraffe from its position and sat on a toy chest.
Belinda made herself comfortable in a perch on a child-size chair.
She looked around the brightly colored playroom, a contrast to the nursery next door. “You know,” she quipped, “I think I need to get back to playing with a primary palette and get away from all this impressionist stuff.”
Tamara and Pia laughed.
Tamara gestured to the bookshelves set against a far wall. “Your watercolors await you. We’re stocked for kids of all ages.”
Pia tilted her head to the side. “Speaking of playing, you and Colin are acting positively cozy. Did I imagine it, or did he give you a warm kiss soon after you walked in the door together?”
Belinda flushed.
Pia was a true romantic, but Belinda didn’t want to give her friend false hope. The truth was that she and Colin had become lovers. But they didn’t have a permanent relationship, despite being married.
Tamara sat up straighter. “Something tells me that Belinda is looking at Colin more kindly these days.”
Pia clapped her hands. “Oh, good. I always thought you and Colin should—”
“It’s not what you think,” Belinda said.
