Secret Baby Scandal Page 8

  “If it had been me, I wouldn’t have settled for just one.” He tried not to think about his odds of touching her this afternoon, although the area around the cove was still secluded, making it a perfect stop for privacy. This section of the lakeshore was no more populated now than it had been ten years ago. Would they get a chance to replay the memory?

  “That may be the most convincing argument you’ve made yet relating to that old disagreement.” She turned from the rail to watch him, the sun burnishing her hair in a way that showed subtle streaks of copper. “But since you probably didn’t bring me here to skinny-dip, I can’t help but wonder what we’re doing in this spot.”

  “We’re in the public eye often enough. I thought you’d appreciate some private time.” He pointed to her bathing suit. “You seem dressed for a swim even though no native would dream of getting in the water this time of year.”

  He’d used the fish-finder system to double-check the water nearby and knew there were no rocks or obstacles in the lake. It was deep enough to jump and safe to swim.

  “I’ve been doing laps in gym pools for two weeks with the doctor’s okay. And after spending years in New York, this feels like summer weather to me.” She tipped her head up to the sun. “And don’t try to tell me you wouldn’t go in the water. I’ve seen you jump overboard in January.”

  “I’ll always wade a little if the fish are biting.” Focused so narrowly on football, he hadn’t been fly-fishing in years. But he’d liked it as a kid, finding comfort in the quietness of the ritual when the rest of his life was so frenetic.

  “Was I the only one who thought there might be a swim involved today?” She scraped back some of the loose strands of her hair and tucked them into the knot at the back of her head.

  “The air temperature hasn’t hit eighty in weeks so there’s no telling how cold the water is.” He made a show of peering overboard and shivering.

  “Guess you’re not as warm-blooded as me.” She marched the length of the boat toward the swim platform at the back.

  He was actually heating up just fine watching her in action, but he kept that to himself.

  “Probably not, but I don’t think it would be right to let you go all alone.” He stalked toward her as she tossed aside her sunglasses. “My camp counselors taught me to use the buddy system when swimming.”

  She shook her head, a smile curving her lips right before she jumped in with a splash.

  And a yelp.

  She shrieked about how cold it was, but given how fired up she made him, that could only be a good thing as far as he was concerned. Stripping off his shirt and sliding out of his shoes, he stepped down to the platform to see for himself.

  He aimed his jump to land a few feet from Tatiana. She swam with sure strokes through the dark water, her skin pale beneath the surface. He caught her around the ankle for a moment, relishing the feel of her silky soft skin. Allowing her to wriggle free, he treaded water and watched her cavort around in the waves.

  “I thought it was too cold for you.” She paused when she saw he’d stopped moving. Her long dark lashes had turned into spiky fringes around her bottle green eyes.

  “I was afraid there might be more fish out to get you.” He hadn’t been kidding about the buddy system.

  Not to mention, this was the mother of his child. He had every reason to protect her.

  “I think I felt one around my ankle a minute ago.” She seemed more relaxed out here.

  “Did you ever miss it here?” He swam closer, drawn to her when she smiled and teased like the woman he’d once known.

  Her smile faded.

  “If I did, I wasn’t allowed to show it.” She shrugged, sending ripples out through the water near her. “I learned to love New York.”

  And she’d left him in the dust the same way she’d ditched the Big Easy.

  “Remember that time I went to visit you during spring break after you moved to New York and you wouldn’t see me?” He’d defied his older brothers and caught a commercial flight to Manhattan. Pounded on her family’s door until her father threatened to call the cops.

  “Of course. You said you wouldn’t leave until you saw me.” She held herself very still. “My father eventually made me come out of my room to tell you to go home.”

  “I understood that you were seventeen and had to do what they said. I didn’t expect you to jump into a cab with me and run away to Spain or something.” Even though he’d proposed just that at one point. But that was mostly because one of her father’s favorite players was harassing her and Jack let the guy get away with it. “I just hoped you’d use the chance to tell your dad he didn’t always know what was best for you.”

  Jean-Pierre had been angry at the time that she’d knuckled under so easily. But he hadn’t understood how important it was to her to be accepted. To earn her father’s approval. Maybe he still didn’t get it.

  Then again, his parents had never expected much from him or any of their sons. His dad had been a player all his life, and not just on the football field. Hence their half brother Dempsey, who was so close in age to Gervais it had been the last straw for his mother. She’d left the family shortly after Theo had moved Dempsey into their home.

  Jean-Pierre had worked too damn hard to differentiate himself from his father to ever be viewed as some kind of womanizer.

  “I learned to decide what was best for me eventually.” She swam by him toward the boat. “At least, I hope I did.”

  Water sluiced off her as she hauled herself up the ladder and into the boat. Not finished with this conversation, Jean-Pierre followed her. He’d waited too long to talk to her after that time she’d told him she didn’t ever want to see him again. And then, ten years later when he’d been so angry about the court case that he confronted her, the feelings had been so strong and so convoluted he didn’t know what they’d acted on that night. Passion? Resentment? Anger? A toxic mix of all three?

  And yet...not toxic. She’d conceived that night, and he wanted to understand what had happened between them so they could provide a healthy environment for a child in the future.

  “I forgot a towel,” she called over her shoulder. “Do you have extras?”

  “I do.” He pulled one out of the warming drawer beneath a bench seat. “But do you want to sit in the front deck hot tub for a few minutes to warm up?”

  He tossed her the towel and toed aside the leather cover of the small tub built into the bow. Steam wafted up, surrounding them both in a soft white mist.

  Her eyes went wide as she snuggled deeper into the towel. “I can’t believe there was a hot tub under there.” She came closer to see for herself. “I thought that covered up a holding tank for fish or something.”

  “Hardly.” He folded the leather cover in half and pulled it the rest of the way off. “I’m not eighteen anymore, Tatiana. I allow myself a few creature comforts these days.”

  She bit her lip and unfastened the hair tie that had held her curls. “I don’t want to stay out too much longer. I need to feed César soon.”

  Still, he would bet money she was tempted. And seeing her shift her weight uncertainly from one long, sleek leg to the other had him feeling damn tempted, too.

  “I can get us back home in about half the time I took to travel out here. How about we get in the tub just long enough to warm up?” He went with the reasonable approach. But then, remembering what she’d said about runaway emotions since giving birth, he tried another appeal. “Besides, you’ve been so focused on caring for César that it doesn’t seem like you’ve made much time to relax and recover. You won’t be much good to him if you wear yourself out.”

  Her gaze flipped up to meet his for a moment before she dipped her toes in the steaming pool. He reached over to the side of a deck box and switched on the air jets. The motor hummed as bubbles erupted on the sur
face of the water, sending even more steam into the air.

  “Maybe for a few minutes,” she agreed, slipping out of the towel and stepping down into the hot tub.

  He shifted closer to steady her arm, following her into the swirl of frothy water.

  The purr of contentment she made as she settled into a seat beside him stirred him as quickly as a physical touch, the sound reverberating down his spine to remind him how much he wanted her. How much he wanted to inspire that same moan of satisfaction from her.

  “Feel good?” Being around her had always revved him high and this day with her was testing his every last restraint.

  He allowed his gaze to roam over her the way his hands wanted to, which was easier to do with her eyes closed and her head tipped back against a neck pillow. Her loosened hair floated around her shoulders. She was like a mermaid dragging him down to his doom. High, full breasts showed above the surface, in easy reach of his mouth. And at this rate, he felt as if the temperature in the hot tub had been cranked a few degrees higher.

  “Feels amazing.” She still didn’t open her eyes. “My body has been through the wringer these last weeks. And not just from childbirth. Even carrying him around...that sounds silly, I know.” She straightened and glanced over at him. “He’s only nine pounds. But still, I’m not used to the position and I get all kinked up.”

  She rolled her shoulders and then her neck.

  He tightened his self-restraint, until it felt like an iron vise.

  “Turn around.” He caught one shoulder in his hand and guided her so that her back was to him. “I’m good at this.”

  “That’s really not necessary,” she protested, but when he got both hands on those trapezius muscles, all objections ceased. “Ooh.”

  She melted beneath his touch. And while he would have liked it to be even more intimate, it satisfied the hell out of him that he could give her this pleasure.

  “Relax,” he urged her, shifting their positions so she sat between his legs. “This is going to help.”

  He felt her tense for a moment as her hip grazed the inside of his thigh beneath the water. But then, as he worked his fingertips deeper into the deltoid muscles, she went limp again, her head lolling forward while he massaged her back and neck.

  The bubbles rushed toward her skin and burst in an endless cycle of movement from the jets.

  “I had no idea you possessed this skill.” Her voice hummed through his fingertips, the sound a vibration he could feel as he worked a kink from her left side. “I’ve paid big bucks for professional massages that haven’t felt this good.”

  “Working with trainers really increased my awareness of the muscle groups. I wouldn’t have maintained a career for this long without good sports therapy.” He tried to focus on the conversation and not how good she felt. How soft and supple beneath his hands.

  And how good she smelled.

  Even after the swim in the lake followed by the chlorinated spa tub, a fragrant hint of lemons clung to her skin and hair. He breathed deep, inhaling her scent as he molded her body with his touch.

  “You get a lot of massages?” She tilted her head from side to side slowly before she turned to peer back at him.

  “Yes, but not many of the kind that feel good. I tend to get the deep-tissue stuff that leaves bruises.”

  “Ouch.” She winced in sympathy. “I’m sure I wouldn’t like that.”

  “I don’t always like it, either, but it can really help alleviate muscle strains.”

  “Like your triceps last season?”

  “Exactly. I injured my arm when I hyperextended—hey. How did you know about that?” He paused, looking over her shoulder to see her face.

  The movement of the boat in the waves sloshed a little water out of the tub to spill on the deck.

  “I might have been paying attention to some of your games.” She spun around to face him, her hair fanning out in the water as she whirled. “That felt great by the way. Thank you.”

  “I like touching you,” he said simply, surprised that she’d followed his career. “I always have.”

  One dark curl clung damply to her neck, snagging his eye. He slid a finger beneath it, barely brushing her skin, intending to relocate the strands behind her back. But that was before he felt the leap of her pulse in her throat. A quick, erratic rhythm that he could almost see in the tender column of her neck.

  He didn’t want to press her. But his hand didn’t seem to be taking instruction from his brain. He laid his palm against her damp skin to get a better feel of that thready, anxious beat. Her eyes closed on contact, her head tipping back in a way that brought her lips within kissing range.

  Sensual hunger washed over him like a rogue wave. He slid his fingers around the base of her neck and steered her mouth to his. Warning bells blared in his head that he couldn’t let things get out of control like last time. He knew that. So with every bit of willpower he possessed, he kissed her gently. Softly, but with a lingering lick along her lower lip. And a nip at the end because she had the most lush, inviting lips he’d ever tasted.

  But then, he let her go. Even though it cost him dearly, he untangled his hand from her hair and released her. Sitting back in the tub with wide eyes, her lips parted slightly, she looked as surprised as he felt.

  There would be time enough for more, when she was ready. For now, he had to let her come to him so that whatever happened next was her choice. It was a good plan. Smart. Logical. And it didn’t do a damn thing to ease a body on fire for her. Taking deep breaths as he willed his urges into submission, he knew he wouldn’t be climbing out of that hot tub anytime soon.

  Six

  “I can’t believe you convinced me to bring César to this dinner party.” Flustered in every way possible, Tatiana navigated the whitewashed stone walkway in kitten heels, holding tight to Jean-Pierre’s arm out of stress more than a need for balance.

  They strode side by side up a pathway from his home to his brother’s residence, a huge mansion on the hill that she’d visited many times as a teen. First with her father, when he’d spend time with Leon Reynaud during the spring months to plan for their team, and later on her own when she’d dated Jean-Pierre for those brief months in prep school.

  Now, Gervais, the owner of the New Orleans Hurricanes and Jean-Pierre’s oldest brother, made the big house his own along with his soon-to-be wife, Princess Erika Mitras. No doubt the home would be different than Tatiana remembered. Normally, she would look forward to a visit like this, but tonight there was so much stress riding on her shoulders she couldn’t work up the energy to be excited to meet royalty. Jean-Pierre was getting under her skin, for one thing. Her whole body still hummed from their too brief encounter on his boat, her every nerve ending now sensually attuned to his touch. But worse than that, she was starting to feel more than just attracted to him. His care and concern over her well-being made her question what she knew about him. Made her rethink all the reasons she was fighting her attraction.

  And on top of everything else, he wanted to bring their newborn with them tonight. Not the reveal she had in mind.

  “It’s funny you think that, because I don’t see you holding César.” Jean-Pierre wrapped his arm around her waist to steady her and she couldn’t think of a single good reason to pull away.

  The kiss on the boat had shifted something between them, forcing her to admit they had a whole lot of unfinished business.

  “I know.” Her heart beat faster, her nerves twitching as they neared the huge Greek revival mansion. Out front, a black Range Rover was parked grille-to-grille across from a Ferrari. “But Lucinda will be bringing him shortly. And it seems like a lot to bombard your brothers with at once—telling them you have a son and then actually having them meet a baby.”

  “Not just any baby.” His voice held a note of unmistakable pride
. “Our son. And the first thing my brothers will ask once we tell them about César is when they can meet him. Trust me. They would feel slighted if we didn’t introduce them to their nephew.”

  She peered up at him in the gray, single-breasted suit that he wore exceedingly well. The white dress shirt, open at the neck and worn with no tie, was his nod to a more casual gathering, but the man looked good enough to touch, to eat. She could see the lines of the comb through his hair, still damp from the shower he’d taken when they returned from the boat, and her fingers ached to smooth over them.

  “I’ll let you take the conversational lead then.” She had enough worries just thinking about how to address a princess and how to assure the rest of the Reynaud brothers that she didn’t hold a grudge against them the way her father did.

  “Of course.” He squeezed her gently, his grip tightening around her waist and drawing her closer. “And don’t be so tense or I’ll have no choice but to give you more massages.”

  A tingle of pleasure went through her, her whole body warming with a sensual promise she shouldn’t be feeling. Then again, she wasn’t even cleared for intimacy from her doctor, so it wasn't as though anything would happen. Maybe she shouldn’t be fighting this so hard—the massage, the kisses, all of which she couldn’t deny wanting.

  “That might not be such a bad thing,” she admitted softly as they climbed the steps toward the front entrance, camellias in bloom in urns near the entrance.

  “I want to take care of you.” With just two fingers, he stroked her hip, a small gesture with an incredible impact she felt through the thin layers of her jade-colored dress. “In whatever way you’ll let me.”

  Her mind went in all kinds of seductive directions. He’d taken care of her with exquisite care in their explosive night together. For that matter, back when they were dating, she’d been a virgin, but even then Jean-Pierre had taught her memorable lessons about other ways to find satisfaction. He’d taken good care of her then, too, even if they’d refrained from ever having sex.