Hallie listened, thunderstruck, as Karim went on to describe the upcoming buyout of Griffin Oceanic, the hole he had dug himself into just last night, and how he had quite foolishly done it.

“…so, now Mr. and Mrs. Griffin have kindly invited me—and my wife and son, which I do not have—to their farm this weekend, for a thirtieth anniversary celebration. I couldn’t say no, of course. But, still…”

He spread his open hands wide, in frustration and helplessness. Probably a feeling—Hallie realized with a sinking heart—that the self-assured young man had not often known.

She was already pulling back, separating herself from him and his woes, putting distance between them. Beginning to gather up Aaron’s toys to stack into the stroller, she made a clucking sound with her tongue.

“Well, that’s too bad, Karim. I’m sorry you’ve gotten yourself into somewhat of a mess, but I don’t see—”

“Just a minute, Hallie, please. You’re an intelligent young woman; I can see you understand just what I’m trying to do.”

“The art of the deal, huh?”

Her tone rang with scorn. And bitterness.

“Yes, it is that. It is a matter of pride to me, I admit, that I succeed in finalizing the purchase, because I truly believe I can make the company better. Improvements for the employees, for their living conditions, for the environment. But, your agreeing to pose as my wife for a short time will benefit you and your family, as well.”

She was standing, now. Hallie always thought more rapidly and clearly on her feet. Her eyes narrowed in disbelief and disdain.

“Really. How is that?”

“I would compensate you for your assistance, of course. Does $20,000 sound fair?”

“It makes me sound like a prostitute!” she spat out. “And it reminds me of how much I loathe, despise, and detest stupid-rich bachelors!”

White-faced with fury and frustration, she was gathering up and throwing things into the stroller, willy-nilly, despite his protestations. Last on her list to be settled was baby Aaron.

“Hallie, please stop,” begged Karim. “I meant no disrespect. Truly. You playing this role would be the ideal solution—”

“For you, maybe! Leave me alone, Karim. This whole afternoon was nothing but a sham, a charade…leading me on to nothing!” She was almost in tears.

Resolutely wrapping her fingers around the stroller handle, she reversed position and took a first determined step away.

“Hallie!”

Karim might have been seeing all his hopes dissolving into dust, but no more so than Hallie did. Upon their initial meeting, the Sheikh had seemed to be such an appealing sort of person. A nice guy, in her book. And here she was, fooled again. She was almost as angry at this sweet-talker as she was at herself for falling for his trap.

He had surged upright to block her retreat, one hand covering hers in supplication.

“Please, reconsider. It’s just a business engagement, nothing more. You and Aaron would have your own suite of rooms, your own accommodations, your own mode of travel, if you prefer.”

Pointedly, she looked down at his barricade, then up to meet his entreating gaze.

“Get. Out. Of. My. Way,” she said between her teeth.

In bowing his head, he also bowed to her wishes. Silently, he took a step away. But not before he had slipped a business card into the open diaper bag nestled at Aaron’s kicking feet.

* * *

“Just slap a sticker on my forehead,” Hallie grumbled to the baby, some fifteen minutes later. She had reached her car, strapped Aaron and his seat into place, unloaded all his gear, unfolded the stroller to stuff into the open trunk, and finally gotten herself settled, still fuming, behind the wheel.

“Yep, that’s just the thing. A sticker that reads, ‘Hey, I’m stupid!’ so everyone will know.”

How dare he! What nasty assumptions had he made about her character! Certainly, he hadn’t known her longer than a couple hours, as far as recognizing what she might accept and what she might not. But, still! Was it because he was royalty? Because he was so used to getting his own way, no matter what? Because she was a single mother and might be easily manipulated?

“I can’t believe I almost fell for it again. I can’t believe some guy wanted to take advantage of me, and I am so damned gullible that I almost let him! Oh, Aaron, when will I ever learn? I’m not responsible enough to be allowed out alone in public!”

For the half-hour or so of driving until she could reach home, Hallie merged seamlessly into traffic, obeyed traffic signals, turned left or right as necessary—all on autopilot. Part of her brain kept her safely maneuvering; the other part silently repeated recriminations and accusations.

It was late enough by the time she finally parked in her usual spot and reassembled all the equipment for the two-block trek to her apartment that Aaron was already fussing for some real food.

“Hang on, kiddo,” she urged, trundling along the sidewalk with its uneven joinings and hidden bumps. “I know it’s been a long day. An unexpected day, for both of us.”

“Now that’s an upset baby,” observed Mrs. Gilmore. She was standing not far from her front door, hose in hand, to water a few thirsty rosebushes, and was being careful not to aim at passersby. “Everything okay?”

Hallie wasn’t about to stop and talk. That would mean more delay, and probable screams—and not just from Aaron.

“Fine, Mrs. G. He’s just hungry. Talk to you later.”

Aaron’s mealtime—mostly oatmeal, with a little mashed banana, and another bottle—playtime, and bath-time occupied Hallie’s thoughts until the baby, all worn out, finally decided on bedtime, with a soft nightlight and a lullaby. Then, at last, she could pick up all the remainders of Aaron’s busy evening, pour a glass of iced tea, and collapse for a few minutes on a corner of the sagging sofa.

“And this is home,” she mumbled, looking around.

A one-bedroom apartment, put together with as much love and talent as a limited budget would allow, in a respectable—if lower-income—neighborhood. The walls had been freshly painted not long ago—in a soft, soothing blue—by her own two capable hands, and framed posters of the Napa wine country and French scenery of Monet’s time had been hung here and there.

But the striped couch had definitely seen better days, and the wooden coffee and end tables were scuffed and battered. More telling, the cupboards and the pantry of the miniscule kitchen held a minimum amount of food—mostly the packages and jars that answered specifically to Aaron’s needs.

Hallie’s glance fell upon the numerous envelopes stacked atop one of the counters, waiting for her attention. Bills. Electricity, gas, telephone, cable, and on and on. They made a never-ending parade through her door, and she could just imagine every one of those windowed invoices sticking its tongue out at her as it was delivered by the postman.

She sighed. Optimism was one thing. Reality was another.

And she was being faced with some very tough facts.

Not enough income, and soon, she would be sliding downhill. Less funds available for medical care, especially during Aaron’s crucial first couple of years. Less food. Then a cheaper place to live, not so respectable. And what then? Welfare? Or, much as she valued her independence, a move into her parents’ already tight quarters?

Hallie brushed aside a tear. Then another. If she sat here long enough. she’d become the Niagara Falls of weepy women, drowning in her own sorrow. There just seemed to be no way out.

Ice cubes clinked in the glass at her elbow; the television, turned on with volume lowered in deference to the sleeping baby, offered inanity upon inanity with a commercial selling this or that newest pharmaceutical discovery.

It was while she was unpacking the diaper bag, preparatory to restocking with fresh supplies for tomorrow and her daily drop-off at her parents’, that she discovered the business card.

Heavy, smooth white stock, with embossed black lettering of some shiny stylized font. His full name. His business address. His office telephone number. His fax number. His cell number.

Hallie brushed the tip of one finger across the neat surface.

Her gaze shifted, once more, to the unpaid invoices.

She sighed. Another tear oozed past her lashes to slip down her cheek. Defeat.

Sure, she could be poor and keep her pride, but she had a baby son to look after. What moral high ground could she take, as far as conscience and standards, when it came to that tiny life? Her first loyalty, her first responsibility, must always lie with Aaron, through both motherly duty and motherly love.

Whatever small spark of interest, respect, or admiration for Karim Al Ahsan might have been fanned into flame, it was now dead and cold. By advancing his proposition as he had, he had inspired only her dislike and contempt. Hallie might be forced by circumstances into accepting Karim’s offer, but that didn’t mean she would ever feel affection or esteem for the man again.

Biting the bullet, she picked up her cellphone and dialed the number.

“Hello. Karim?”