Her Foreign Affair Read Free Page B

to find her through her daughter?
    Birdie pinched her arm, bringing Randi back to the moment with a small jolt. Oh Lord, she was standing there like an idiot, everyone looking at her with expressions of curiosity and puzzlement. Hoping to find her cool hostess voice and not a strangled, choked voice, she gulped.
    “Hello, Court.”
     
     

Chapter 2
     
    Many things filled Courtland Bailey Robinson’s head as he stared at the woman clutching her daughter’s arm as if she were sinking. Not the least of which was satisfaction. Finally, a conclusion to the investigation he’d begun ten years before. A bittersweet triumph because, apparently, she’d been keeping things from him, including her real name.
    “Jean,” he repeated, then shook his head and corrected himself. “Randi. Sorry, but I know you as Jean.”
    All the years of searching aside, he had to drink her in with his eyes. God, she was beautiful. She’d fulfilled the promise of her youth. And then some.
    Where she’d once been pretty, bright, fresh, and young, twenty-two years later, she’d become the most wonderful of creatures, a mature woman. Confidence radiated from her as she lifted her chin ever so slightly, her jade eyes challenging him for having the nerve to enter her domain. Her petite body, once slender, now showed soft curves behind the faded green apron stained with the efforts of her labors to produce a feast. He took in the surface details, as too many emotions to name whirled through his mind. He’d been thinking of her so much lately, for a moment he wondered if he were dreaming.
    “You know each other?” Birdie, the beautiful young woman who he’d thought vaguely reminded him of someone, looked from her mother to him and back again, her little brow wrinkled in confusion. “Mom? Are you okay?” Birdie protectively covered her mother’s hand on her arm.
    After her initial cool greeting, Jean’s—Randi’s—face had paled under her smooth makeup, making the colors all wrong on her face. A second later, the pasty shade heated into the rosy glow he’d loved, though usually produced for a completely different reason. Her body had flushed that way, in the same perfect shade of dewy pink while…
    “Dad?”
    His son’s query caused her gaze to dart in the lad’s direction and forced Court to blink himself back into the present, his lips curving in a smile greatly at odds with the emotions swirling deep inside. Hadn’t she trusted him enough to gift him with her real name? Then again, what he’d done, been forced to do, probably had proved him untrustworthy in her eyes. Still, the mystery of where she’d ended up was solved, and the relief it brought nearly knocked him to his knees.
    “I don’t usually bring roses to strange women, but Birdie said they were your favorite, and I’m delighted to say you aren’t a stranger after all. Well, except for the name thing. Why didn’t you ever tell me your whole name?”
    Randi’s wide, shocked gaze darted back to him, bounced over to Drew, and zoomed to him again as if searching for signs of something. Most people gushed over the similarities between him and Drew, so she was clearly noticing for herself. It didn’t take much to ignore the reaction as usual. He held out the bouquet of soft pink roses, so pale they were nearly white. As he recalled, they were exactly her favorites.
    “Oh. Thank you. Funny you should find these…”
    She ignored the question about her name and reached for the flowers. For an instant, her hand tightened around the tissue and plastic wrapped stems until the knuckles turned white. It seemed as if she were almost tempted to beat him about the head and shoulders with the bouquet of her favorite posies.
    He’d once nicked a rose like these from her landlady’s garden and Jea—correction, had to remember—Randi had pressed it between the pages of her economics book. “Yes, those exact roses. Destiny, I’d say.” Did she still have the dried flower? What