RSVP...Baby

by Pamela Browning

  She made herself watch the rest of the tape. Business was, after all, business, and with a source like the Viceroy-Bellamy mine, Bianca was sure that she could keep a roomful of jewelry designers busy for the foreseeable future, not to mention a few master gem cutters, a couple of new marketing people and miscellaneous administrative assistants. If she expanded into gemstones with emeralds like the ones on this video, she’d have more than enough business to open that new office on this side of the ocean. It was exciting to think about. Although she’d known that the mine Neill owned was a major one, she realized as she watched the final segment of the video dealing with mining operations that she hadn’t had any idea how large the mine was or how broad in scope its business.

  Neill emerged from the bedroom, his hair sculpted into its natural waves, his eyes bright with interest He stood and watched the closing moments of the video with her. The moment it started to rewind he said, “Well? What do you think?”

  She stood up. “I’m impressed. I want to see some of those emeralds myself.”

  He smiled and reached for her, and unwittingly she realized that she’d left herself wide-open. He might think that she wanted to see the emeralds for other than a purely professional reason; he might think she wanted to see him.

  Well, didn’t she?

  Yes. And no. She didn’t want another fling with Neill Bellamy. And he would never be ready for anything permanent.

  She pushed him away. “I told you I didn’t want to stay here longer than it took to watch that tape. We’d better go, Neill.”

  He let his hands drop to his sides. “All right, this is it,” he said. A resolute expression came over his face, and she knew in that instant that nothing she could do or say would keep him from saying whatever he meant to say. A sick feeling stole into the pit of her stomach, and she turned away in an attempt to hide her anxiety. This time if Neill asked her who Tia’s father was, she wasn’t sure she could put him off again. She steeled herself for the worst and wished that she were anywhere but there.

  Neill moved around her so that he was looking her full in the face.

  “I’m going to lay it on the line. Bianca, are you married? Or do you have a boyfriend?”

  This was so unexpected that she could only stare at him. “What are you talking about?”

  He regarded her intently, his gaze delving deep into hers. “I want to know if there’s a man in your life. If you’re in a relationship.”

  She mustered the poise that seemed to desert her whenever Neill was around. “Is it any of your business?”

  “I think it is.”

  She closed her eyes, then opened them. “My life is complicated enough without answering off—the—wall questions. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m supposed to pick up Tia.”

  She tried to brush past him but his arm shot out and pulled her back. She avoided looking directly at him.

  “Not so fast,” he said. “You haven’t answered me.”

  “And if I don’t, so what?” She summoned all her bravado and made herself look directly into his eyes.

  “Here’s what,” he said, pulling her into his arms. She braced herself against his chest and pushed. He budged not an inch.

  “Let me go,” she said, but she was effectively boxed in. Not that it was unpleasant. His arms around her were a barrier between her and the rest of the world, and part of her wanted to enjoy that. The other part of her wanted to hit him over the head with something.

  His face moved closer until it was only inches from hers. “I don’t think you want me to let you go. I think you want me to do this,” and he lowered his lips to hers.

  His mouth was soft at first, but as it became more demanding a flood of sensation swept through her, over her, around her. She breathed in sharply and savored the scent of him: a subtle aftershave and the fragrance of a strong, virile man. There was no way she could not respond to him.

  Her arms went around his neck and her eyes fluttered closed. At the moment she couldn’t think, she could only feel. She couldn’t pretend that she wasn’t still attracted to him.

  He stopped kissing her as abruptly as he’d started. She felt his lips close to her ear.

  “I think you’ve answered my question. If there were another man in your life, you wouldn’t be kissing me like that.”

  “I really have to get Tia from the Ofstetlers’,” she mumbled into his lapel, embarrassed about letting her guard down.

  He laughed, a short outburst, and she made herself step away. Maybe she should let him think there was someone else. It might make it easier for her. But she had already lied enough. There was no point in making things even worse.

  “All right,” he said. “We’ll go to the Ofstetlers’ because you keep insisting. But the night isn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.”

  She allowed herself one last look at him, standing there and looking so determined and so heartrendingly handsome, and, heart in her throat, she rushed out of the cottage, Neill right behind her. She flew past cot— tages with the picturesque names of Dandelion, Pennyroyal, Thistle, repeating them in her mind as a kind of mantra to keep away unwelcome thoughts. Somehow she knew that when she looked back on this wedding weekend, all she would remember was running and being pursued by Neill Bellamy. Once that would have been the stuff of dreams, and maybe it still was. Only in real life, she’d better hope that she could succeed in holding him at arm’s length. She felt the sting of tears behind her eyes and blinked rapidly to dispel it. How could she want him and not want him, how could she love him and not let him know?

  She was almost grateful when he caught up with her so that she wouldn’t have to pursue this confusing line of thought.

  “Tell me about the baby,” Neill said as he caught up with her.

  She struggled to keep her voice under control. “What would you like to know?”

  “Do they have personalities at that age? I’m afraid I don’t know very much about babies. Well, you already know that,” he offered in a tone that approached apologetic.

  Bianca rallied and realized that she could talk about this; her child and her new status as a mother were topics she loved. She drew a deep stabilizing breath before she spoke. “You could have written all I knew about babies on the head of a pin until I had one. It’s amazing, Neill. Tia had a personality right from the start.”

  “I don’t see how they can have personalities when they can’t talk or let you know what they’re thinking,” he said.

  “Oh, babies have ways of communicating.”

  “Cooing? Gurgling? When I was with her today, I couldn’t figure out what any of it meant.”

  “You could if you were around her for any length of time. You know, the week I took Tia home from the hospital, the pediatrician suggested that I offer her water in a bottle now and then. She hated it from the first. She’d push it away and look at me like I was crazy for even thinking that she’d be interested. I knew what she meant without her making a sound.”

  “I’ve heard mothers say that their kids had personalities of their own from the time they were born.”

  “Tia did. She’s cheerful and energetic and she likes people. And she’s easygoing most of the time. She’s happy to see me in the morning when I pick her up out of her crib. I can tell because she waves her little arms and kicks her little legs, and she smiles. She has a wonderful smile.”

  “She sounds like fun,” Neill said. He sounded mildly surprised.

  “She’s my life,” was Bianca’s simple reply. It was the truth.

  “What made you decide to have a baby?”

  She didn’t know what to say. She could hardly tell Neill that she hadn’t planned to have a child but that for her, once she was pregnant, there was no other choice. She kept her silence, thinking that it was the better virtue and knowing full well that virtue had nothing to do with any of this.

  They walked on for a few more moments when Neill said, “Sorry. It’s none of my business.”

  She felt as if she we
re suffocating under the weight of her secret. It was his business, or at least it could be.

  She made herself respond, and in the only way she could, which was straight from her heart. “I chose for Tia to maintain a low profile at this wedding, but I love her more than anything in the whole world.”

  The Ofstetlers had left the porch light burning, and it lit Neill’s face as they approached their house. He looked serious, thoughtful. “I know you love her,” he said evenly.

  Bianca didn’t expect him to walk her up to the door, but he did, his footsteps ringing out on the wide boards of the porch floor. A moth flitting around the porch light dive-bombed her head; Neill brushed it away. Bianca knocked on the door, feeling awkward. Maybe Neill did too, but if he did, he didn’t show it. He was hard to figure and always had been.

  “Do we put the baby in the pram to take her back to the hotel?” Neill asked while they waited for Franny to answer their knock.

  Bianca shook her head. “I’ll carry her.”

  “But where will she sleep?”

  “I have a crib set up for Tia in my room.”

  Franny opened the door, her shape outlined against the cozy interior of the house. She held the baby in her arms. “Hi, Ms. D’Alessandro, Mr. Bellamy. Tia was a good girl tonight. She drank every bit of her formula. Want to come in?”

  “No, I’m tired, Franny, and tomorrow’s the wedding. We’d better be on our way.”

  When Franny placed Tia in her waiting arms and went to get the baby’s bag, Neill moved closer. The three of them stood encapsuled in the golden rectangle of light from the doorway.

  Like insects trapped in amber, Bianca thought as she dropped a kiss on top of Tia’s head. However, unlike the insects, they would not be there forever. They would be moving on, resuming their own busy lives and pursuing them in places as far apart as possible while still living on the same planet.

  “The baby looks so heavy for you. Won’t you let me carry her?” Neill offered.

  Bianca didn’t think she could bear to see the baby in Neill’s arms again. Last time he had held Tia, it had made her think of too many might-have-beens, shouldhave-beens, could-have-beens.

  “I’m used to it,” Bianca said carefully. “You can bring her bag if you like.”

  Neill grunted but didn’t say anything. When Franny returned, he wordlessly took the bag that held Tia’s extra diapers and formula and followed Bianca as she called out goodbyes over her shoulder.

  Bianca held Tia close, but the baby seemed overly interested in the man who walked beside them so silent in the moonlight that sifted through the sheltering trees. Past the willows, past the pond, past the darkened Folly. Bianca was grateful for the dim light because it afforded her welcome privacy. The silence between them lengthened; Neill didn’t speak and neither did Bianca.

  Bianca knew that it was because neither of them knew what to say.

  And because even if they knew precisely the right thing, neither of them would say it.

  NEILL FOUND THAT, after the shadowed grounds of the hotel, the lights of the deserted lobby seemed altogether too bright. As they entered it, Tia whimpered and stirred, and Bianca, who much to his surprise was as attentive and loving as a mother could be, calmed the baby with a few soft words.

  “Does she always do that?” Neill whispered in the hall.

  “Do what?”

  “Make noises.”

  “All babies do.”

  “I thought they only ate, slept and cried. Oh, and cooed and gurgled.”

  “Well, they do a couple more things, too. One of which I’m pretty sure I’ll have to deal with when I get her to my room.”

  “Oh. I get the drift,” Neill said, and he was grinning as he took her key from her to unlock her door, which swung open before he had a chance to use it.

  Bianca walked into the room and began to settle Tia in her crib, which was set up in one of the dormer window alcoves. As she began to change the baby’s diaper, her face was alight with the glow of maternal love, and Neill wished she’d look at him with as much devotion. The thought engendered a feeling of such longing that he knew it must show on his face. Quickly, before Bianca took note, he turned back to the door and studied the lock and the plate with its missing screw.

  “You really should have called somebody to fix this lock long before this, especially since there’s someone around who seems to be going in peoples’ rooms,” he said over the murmured reassurances that Bianca was giving the baby.

  Bianca looked up from her task. “Yes, I know, but I keep forgetting to call whomever I’m supposed to call.”

  “Some of this beefed-up hotel security, for starters.”

  “I’ll call first thing in the morning.”

  Neill didn’t like to think of Bianca and her baby in this room unprotected all night, and furthermore, Bianca’s cavalier attitude toward safety bothered him. He suspected that she didn’t ever have to deal with such inconveniences as broken locks; she had people for that. Well, so had he until he decided to make his life more real by moving away from Lake Forest and the comfortable cocoon that his family’s wealth and position provided.

  Without thinking about it, he let his gaze rest momentarily on the tiny bundle in the crib. Not only was Bianca a concern, but he wasn’t willing to take the chance that anything could happen to such a sweet baby. Such a helpless baby.

  He fiddled with the doorknob. “I have just the thing to take care of that lock,” he said. He reached his other hand into his pocket and closed his fingers around the familiar and comfortable shape of a Swiss Army knife. When he pulled it out, Bianca moved closer.

  “I remember that knife,” Bianca said in surprise. “I gave it to you for Christmas shortly after Budge and Mother were married.”

  Neill had owned the knife for so long, had depended on its built-in gadgets for so many things, that its origins had long been forgotten.

  “I don’t remember that,” he said. Then, thinking that he’d sounded ungracious, he added, “I’ve taken this knife everywhere. It goes down into the mine with me and on vacations with me, and I suppose I’ll carry it in my pack when I climb Mount Everest.”

  “Mount Everest? You’re climbing Mount Everest?”

  “I’m thinking about it.”

  “What on earth makes you want to climb the highest mountain in the world?”

  “There are no Knoxes or Bellamys at the top of Mount Everest,” he said wryly.

  Bianca shook her head and lifted her eyes to the heavens. “You must want to be away from here almost as much as I do.”

  He let that pass, mostly because he wasn’t so sure he wanted to be away from here. Away from her. He doubted that she’d want to hear it, however. She was the one who didn’t want to have anything to do with the Bellamy tribe, up to and including him. He wondered what it would take to change her mind. He wondered if he was up to the job.

  Bianca silently repositioned a lamp on a nearby table so that the light fell directly on the work area. He made himself concentrate on the plate, which was loose and misaligned so that the latch bolt was not able to engage properly.

  He saw the missing screw in the ashtray on the nearby console table. Once the striker plate was realigned and the missing screw attached using the knife’s screwdriver, the lock engaged properly. He opened and closed the door experimentally a few times, then stood up and folded the knife, his fingers lingering on its worn finish. How could he have forgotten that it was a gift from Bianca? Or had he buried the memory like so many other memories of his turbulent young adulthood?

  Without speaking, without looking at Bianca, he went slowly to the crib and stood staring down at Tia, who had fallen asleep. Her eyebrows were pale, but her eyelashes were dark and cast feathery shadows on her plump pink cheeks. He thought that she must look a lot like Bianca had looked when she was a baby. Or did she look like another man, perhaps Vittorio? In the dim light he couldn’t be sure. And in that moment it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Tia
was part of Bianca.

  He heard a soft rustle behind him and felt Bianca’s presence. He also smelled her perfume: Joy.

  “She’s such a pretty child,” he said.

  Bianca was silent. “I’m glad you think so,” she replied finally, and there was a slight catch in her voice. He looked at her quickly. She was biting her lip, and he thought he caught the glimmer of tears beneath her lowered eyelids.

  Funny little Beans, he thought to himself. He’d never known how emotional she was before, or how vulnerable. In that instant he wanted to take her in his arms and press her head to his chest. He wanted to make sure that she never wanted for love or happiness or companionship or money.

  Or a decent lock on her door.

  He turned away, confused by his emotions. And hers, which were something of a mystery to him. What was she thinking just now, what was she feeling?

  “Bianca,” he said, then stopped. He looked back at her, his heart melting when he saw the complicated emotions playing across her face. “I think I don’t want to be away from here as much as I did.” There. He’d given her an opening if she chose to take it.

  She walked quickly to the other dormer window, hugging herself and looking somehow forlorn. “Why?” she asked bluntly.

  He followed her. “Good question.”

  “What kind of answer is that?”

  “The kind you might expect from someone who wants answers to his own questions.”

  She was silent

  He touched her shoulder. She didn’t move, and he thought she might be holding her breath.

  “We’re talking in circles,” he pointed out unnecessarily.

  She wheeled around and tried to brush past him. He blocked her way.

  “Bianca, you shouldn’t have left so Suddenly last year,” he said.

  She gazed at him, her eyes deep and soulful. Did he read regret there, or was it something else?

  When she would have bowed her head, he tipped a finger beneath her chin. “Don’t look away from me,” he said softly. “It’s another way of running.” He framed her face with his hands so that he was gazing full into her face, such a lovely face that he couldn’t imagine why, when they were younger, he hadn’t realized how beautiful she was. Soft pale brows, wideset blue eyes, a small perfect nose, full lips with a sensual quirk at the corners. She was so familiar, yet so new to him. He marveled at the softness of her skin. It was the texture of gardenia blossoms, dewy and fresh and inviting.