Billionaire's Single Mom

"There, there. You still have a whole lot of life left to live," I said as I rubbed her back and tried to stem the flow of tears. It didn’t do much good.

"I miss him so much, Jack!" she sobbed. "He was my whole world!"

"Yes, that's going to present a certain challenge now, isn't it?" I said feeling the anger begin to course through my veins. I couldn't show her, though. She'd pretend not to understand, and then the wedge he'd tried to drive between us would be complete. I'd worked very hard not to hate my mother, and I wanted to keep things the way they were now that my father was dead. "Perhaps a nice long cruise would help you relax and unwind?"

"I . . . I . . . I don't know!" she cried harder. "I don't know what to do without him!"

"I know, Mother," I said. "I know. We'll figure something out. You're going to be okay. I promise."

She nodded as she clung to me and, as quickly as they'd begun, the tears stopped and she returned to reclining on her chaise. My mother was very good at short emotional outbursts. It was dealing with the cause of them that was her shortcoming.

"You need to get changed for dinner," she said as she returned to staring out over the lawn. Her voice had a dreamy quality to it, most likely created by the bourbon, but I think she liked to believe it was the deep well of emotion that she drew from that fueled it. "Don't let me keep you from your dinner date. I've always liked that Morgan girl. She's smart and well-raised."

"She certainly is," I said as I headed for the door. "Like a good race horse."

"Indeed," my mother said as she slipped back into her alcohol-fueled memories of days gone by.

It didn't take me long to change, and soon I was back in the car headed toward Manhattan. I poured myself a whiskey and sat staring out the window, wondering how we had all wound up here.

*

Jimmy pulled the car up in front of the palatial Blue Water Grill with five minutes to spare. It was located just on the edge of the hustle and bustle of Union Square. It was a large restaurant full of people who were arriving after a full day at work, looking to eat and blow off a little steam. The bar was crowded, and I had to squeeze my way through tightly packed groups of people waiting for tables as I made my way to the hostess stand.

"You're here for Ms. Morgan, aren't you?" a cheerful young woman asked as I stepped up to the stand.

"I am," I said a little confused, but then looked down and saw a picture of myself, obviously cut out of the Times or the WSJ, and chuckled. Sloan was never unprepared.

The hostess led me to a table behind a small crowd and away from the loud crowd. I inhaled sharply as I rounded the corner and caught a glimpse of the woman who had occupied my every waking (and sometimes sleeping) moment in high school. She was dressed in a scoop-neck blouse that threatened to expose more than what was decent. Her hair shone in the soft light of the overhead lamp. When she looked up at me and smiled, I felt the blood rushing away from my brain and heading south.

"You look lovely, Sloan," I said as I quickly took a seat. She knew the effect she had on me and, while it was maddening, it was also reassuring.

"You don't look so shabby yourself," she said with a smile as she signaled to the server who nodded and disappeared. He returned a few minutes later with two dirty martinis and a plate of appetizers.

"You always take care of everything, don't you?" I laughed as I raised my glass and toasted.

"To old friends and new memories," she said as she clinked her glass against mine before sipping.

"So, tell me, Sloan, why have you summoned me here?" I asked and watched a surprised look briefly alight on her face before the calm mask reappeared.

"I told you, I just want to see you and catch up," she said, smiling as she rested her hand on my leg under the table. I could feel the blood surging and making my pants tight, and I fought to keep it under control. I knew that deviating from my plan of keeping everything on the up and up would spell trouble, but Sloan knew my weak spots.

"Sloan . . ." I said wanting to tell her to stop but couldn’t will myself to.

r /> "What's wrong, Jack?" she asked as she leaned closer and moved her hand higher up my thigh. "I thought you liked this."

"Sloan, stop," I said mustering the will to move her hand away from where it was headed. My body wanted her, but the rest of me was still bruised by her callousness. "I didn't come here to be seduced."

"Didn't you?" she asked as she narrowed her eyes and slid back so that there was a space between us.

"Why do you always do this to me?" I said as I picked up my glass and sipped. She opened her mouth to answer as the server walked up to the table and set down another plate of appetizers.

"With regards from the chef, Ms. Morgan," he said with a polite smile.

"Oh, do tell him thank you!" she replied with a wide smile and a wink. The server blushed and backed away from the table.

"Why do you always do that?" I asked.

"Do what?"