“Lucky she’s meeting friends for lunch today and won’t be back until late.” Chantelle turned back and once again shot him daggers from her eyes. He smiled and licked his lips. “Your delightful little scream as you came would have given the game away.”
“You knew she wasn’t there, you bastard!” She couldn’t help but smile with relief at the thought that no one but him had heard the loud involuntary moan which escaped despite her best efforts.
“My parents had been happily married for twenty years before I came along,” he corrected. “Speaking of parents, I booked a table for you and my mother at Bea’s tomorrow at one. Don’t keep her waiting.”
***
As the waiter ushered her to the table, Chantelle realized that they seem to be heading towards a woman whose hair was liberally streaked with grey and brushed smoothly back from her face into a large, curly Afro puff, sitting alone at a table for two.
Had the man not listened to her properly and assumed that because she was black she was meeting another black person? Well, mixed-race person, to be more precise.
As she about to turn around and tell him that she was meeting a Mrs. O’Brien, the woman got to her feet.
“Chantelle?”
“Yes?”
Had Dominic’s mother not been able to make it and sent someone else on her behalf?
“Hi. I’m Philippa, Dominic’s mother.” The woman’s bearing, though her style was straight out of the swinging 60s, was too regal for her to be part of an elaborate joke on Dominic’s part. She also had Dominic’s hazel eyes. “Naughty boy, I see he didn’t tell you what to expect of me.” The woman’s laughter was a rich sound that seemed to come from deep within her.
Chantelle couldn’t help chuckling herself. Even her drunken mother had seen the signs that she’d missed—the curly hair, the hazel eyes, those full sexy lips…
Down girl!
“I was quite surprised when he told me he wanted me to meet you.” The woman took a sip of her Earl Grey tea while Chantelle waited to be served her cappuccino. “I’ve never met one of his girlfriends before.”
“I’m not exactly his girlfriend,” Chantelle blurted out and wished she could recall the words as soon as they were out of her mouth.
“Ah!” His mother took another sip of tea and tried to hide her smile behind the rim of the cup. “ I call him my little miracle, you know. He was conceived nearly ten years after my husband had the snip. He was totally unexpected and totally unwanted when I first realized that I was pregnant.”
Chantelle felt her eyes widen at the woman’s candor. How could she not have wanted Dominic?
“My husband and I met at university. I fell pregnant soon after we married and it was baby after baby for ten years. That year I’d planned to resume my art career as my eldest Simon was heading off to Oxford and my youngest Rosalind was nine years old and a very independent little girl. I went to my GP expecting him to tell me that I was experiencing early menopause or something worst. Pregnancy was the last thing on my mind! I called Michael right away hoping that he wouldn’t think it was another man’s child. Instead he was as excited as when I fell pregnant with Simon—he loves babies. Knowing how much I’d looked forward to finally starting my career, he promised to cut his hours at the office to look after Dominic while I attended refresher art classes and visited galleries in the evenings. He didn’t have to in the end because my older children just doted on the baby. His brothers even fought his sisters for their share of play time.”
Chantelle smiled at the mental image of Dominic’s siblings having a tug-of-war over baby Dominic. He must have been the cutest little baby alive! It was little wonder the man wouldn’t take no for an answer. He was probably spoiled not only by his parents, but nine brothers and sisters. Well and truly and utterly spoiled rotten!
“A mother shouldn’t have favorites among her children. I don’t really…but Dominic’s my heart,” his mother admitted with a guilty laugh. “He was an easy pregnancy and such a good baby. I used to dump my easel and paints in the back of my little van, strap him into a child seat and take him when I went landscape painting. When he was older I got him a little easel and he used to do his little drawings, too. I still have them.”
“You have ten children?” Chantelle always thought that one child of each sex would be enough for her, yet she’d enjoyed growing up with her three siblings.
“Yes. They all have high-powered careers and I don’t see or hear from some of them for months. I suspect their partners or PAs remind them of our birthdays and anniversaries. Dominic never forgets and I know that he often, if not always, chooses our gifts personally. I know it’s easier for him because he’s his own boss and doesn’t have a wife or children, but he’s always been the most caring.” The woman smiled across at Chantelle as she took another sip of tea.