Page 49 of Love Bomb

Well, he wasn’t going to gossip about Rona.

Not if Bain could help it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Bain turned back to the server behind the window. “Can you bring my order to my table?” he asked.

The girl shook her head. “We don’t have any waitstaff on tonight. We’re short staffed, and you can see how busy it is.”

No kidding, the room had become a crush. Bain glanced around and his attention landed on a lanky teen, leaning against the wall. The boy was more interested in his phone than the dancing. Bain strode over to him.

“Five pounds if you pick up my food and deliver it to my table,” he said.

The teen reluctantly looked up from the game he was playing. “Ten,” he said sullenly.

“Five. I’m overpaying as it is.” Bain grabbed a handful of his black sweatshirt and hauled him back toward the food window. “And don’t eat any of it on the way.”

He presented the prince of darkness to the harried woman in the kitchen. “This is my server. Give him my order when you’re done, will you?”

She looked a little bewildered but nodded.

Bain was about to go after Rona when it occurred to him that five pounds might not be motivation enough for the teen. So, he confiscated his phone.

“Hey,” the boy yelled. “You can’t do that!”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it back, along with the money, when my food is delivered in one piece.” With a sigh of disgust at the state of the younger generation, Bain made a beeline for the dance floor.

Rona was easy to spot, with her bright orange hair and candy floss jumper. But even if she hadn’t been so colorful, he would have noticed her right away. She shone like a beacon in the crowd. It was as though she was lit from within, making her skin glow and her smile dazzling.

He pushed past a group of leering older men.

“Eyes off the redhead,” he snapped at them. “She’s young enough to be your daughter.”

One of the men was offended. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Bain MacGregor. We’re watching our wives.”

Yeah, right. Like they’d even notice their wives next to Rona.

He’d just about made it to the edge of the dance floor when a hand curled around his arm, stopping him. His heart sank when he looked down to find his latest paternity suit staring up at him with big pleading eyes.

“I don’t have time for this, Sandra,” he said, not unkindly.

There was something not quite right about the young woman. He feared she was a wee bit fragile.

“I thought you’d be here,” she said sadly. “How can you chase after other women when you have a baby at home.”

There was a gasp beside him, as a woman he didn’t know blatantly listened in on his conversation. He frowned at her in censure before turning his attention back to Sandra.

“I don’t have a baby at home, Sandra,” he said patiently. “I don’t live with you. We’ve never slept together, and we don’t have a baby together.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d said this to her and, from the confused look on her face, it wouldn’t be the last.

She shook her head. “No, we had a special night together, I remember.”

He gently removed her hand from his arm. “I bought you and your friends a couple of drinks one night, well over a year ago. That was it. We didn’t go home together. Nothing happened between us.”

“That’s not true.” She brushed her hair from her eyes. It was lanky and dull, and seriously in need of cutting. “We made a baby together.”

“No, Sandra, we didn’t. I don’t know who your baby’s father is, but it isn’t me.”