by Nancy Gideon
"I don't know. So many things ... changed all at once. I haven't had a chance to get used to the idea yet."
"You'll have about nine months.” His smile faltered and faded. “You do like the idea, don't you?"
"Of having the baby? Yes."
"And the father?"
There was a long silence, the kind of suspense that was like crawling over an acre of broken glass. And then her answer.
"Yes."
He held out his hand to her, palm outstretched. Slowly, hers crossed it. He kept his grip loose so she could pull free if she chose to. She clung tightly.
"What are you going to do now?” She began with an impossibly broad question that encompassed their entire future.
"Well, I think I've officially resigned from Meeker, Murray & Zanlos."
They shared a rather strained laugh and a long, compelling look. His tone grew serious.
"I've made a lot of bad choices in the past. I've done things for the wrong reasons and only for myself. It's time I did some pro bono work if Marchand will have me. I'm sure I can put this law degree to some use, even if my clients have to get used to the odd hours.” He needed to work. His first order of business would be to set up a trust fund in New Orleans for two little girls who'd lost their mother. His mood deepened. “And you ... and the baby?"
"Robin."
"Robin?"
"The baby's name. Kind of an inside joke between the two of us."
The two of us. Her and the child. Not promising.
"Will you go back home?"
"I am home. This is where all my ghosts are buried. I just heard that Bette Grover's condition is improving, and I want to be there for her. It might take some time before she gets the okay, but when she's released, I intend to see she gets all the TLC a mother would get from a daughter. I owe that to her and to Ginny. We've got some fences to mend. I'm not walking away from those I love any more."
"Really?"
She lifted his hand so that his palm spread open above her heart. Its strong, determined beat spoke of a truth she had yet to confirm.
He took a breath and took a chance. “I need to hear you say you love me."
Never breaking their intense gaze, she brought his hand to her lips for a soft press. “I have always loved you, and I have always believed in you."
His kiss-dampened knuckles glided along her cheek. “And that's what saved me."
"I guess that settles it, doesn't it? Marchand will have to take the both of us, then. Someone who can investigate in the daylight isn't a bad thing.” At the questioning lift of his dark brow, she assumed an independent stance. “You have a problem with a working mother?"
"No problem at all as long as she exercises a little self-restraint."
She stepped in closer. His senses filled up with her, with her fragrance, with her heat, with the excitement stirred by her rapid heart beats.
"Does that self-restraint have to start now?"
"Perhaps not."
She rubbed his jawline with her knuckles and, once she'd touched him, felt the familiar line of his strong chin, she couldn't stop. She caressed his cheek, his brows, the shape of his mouth with her fingertips while her steady gaze adored him and asked for more. She wanted his kisses, to embrace all that he had become without regret or reluctance. But she waited, sensing there was more he wanted to say.
"Before we see if what Gerard told me is true, there's something you need to take care of first."
Cautioned by his rather remote tone, Rae took a step back. “What?"
He grinned, all wolfish charm and dazzle.
"I'm ready for that apology now."
Don't Miss the Remainder of
Nancy Gideon's “Midnight” Series:
Midnight Enchantment
Midnight Gamble
Midnight Redeemer
Midnight Shadows
Midnight Crusader
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