Secret Baby Scandal

by Joanne Rock

  The stress of the last weeks must have caught up to her.

  “I didn’t know how cold it might be when I first came out here, so I loaded up on the blankets.” He followed her as she made herself comfortable in the glider swing, the cushion so thick a small child could use it as a trampoline.

  “You were trying to lure me outside?” She covered her legs with one of the extrasoft wooly throws even though the fire warmed the area just fine.

  The blaze crackled as a log shifted.

  “I thought the view out here would be nicer than in the nursery.” He dragged another pillow over from the other end of the swing and tucked it between her hip and the arm of the swing. “The whole reason Leon bought this property was for the view. If not for the lake, we’d be in the Garden District.”

  “It would be tougher to create a Reynaud compound in a city where families hold on to their houses for centuries.” She loved the Garden District, but she guessed it would be difficult to find homes close together up for sale at the same time.

  Here, the Reynauds had three homes and plenty of lake frontage.

  “Leon was smart to think about privacy.” Jean-Pierre didn’t hand her the baby yet, instead gesturing toward a server holding a small tray that Tatiana hadn’t noticed. “It’s easier to keep the media at bay here.”

  The young woman flicked open a silver stand with one hand and settled the tray on top of it with the other, never so much as wobbling the full urn of ice water or the pot of tea wrapped in a bright red cozy. The food was hidden beneath gleaming domes that she didn’t take off before hurrying away.

  “This is what you meant when you said you were going to stop by the kitchen for something to eat?” Tatiana reached for César as soon as the server left.

  “I might be new to child-rearing, but I figured it was best not to juggle the pot of tea while carrying a newborn.” He passed the baby over, carefully supporting his head until she had him secured.

  Already, the baby arched and squirmed, making small hungry sounds until she settled him to her breast. He latched on with the fierceness of an experienced eater.

  “Here.” Jean-Pierre folded one of the extra blankets and tucked it under her arm where the baby’s head rested. “Does that help?”

  “Definitely.” She’d never been so comfortable while nursing, in fact. “This is an incredible setup. I wish all the nighttime feedings had been this easy.”

  His jaw flexed, the muscle working as he leaned over to pull the lids off the food trays. “All future feedings can be.”

  “Although this week, you have a light schedule with football. Normally, you’d be working.” She kept her focus on the fruit-and-cheese board he’d revealed, not wanting to launch into an argument with him. But she refused to let him paint a false picture of the role he could play in any kind of family life.

  She picked up a slice of kiwi and popped it into her mouth.

  “I don’t work at this hour.” He used a pair of tongs to transfer select pieces of fruit and cheese to a smaller plate.

  “But if you’re on the road, that’s as good as working since you wouldn’t be at home,” the lawyer in her pointed out, unable to resist.

  He set the painted china dish on the glider cushion near César’s feet, putting it in easy reach. His arm brushed hers, a warm, solid weight that had her wondering what it would be like to lean on him. Into him.

  She took a piece of crusty bread and bit into it.

  “Other players’ families travel with them to have more time together.” He loaded a second plate for himself, pulling items from another tray of cold meats.

  Seeing him balance salmon and chicken on the too-small plate made her remember how careful he was about what he ate. Other players—big, heavy lineman or younger men new to the league—might see their job as a ticket to eat as much as they wanted. But even as a teen, Jean-Pierre had made a study of nutrition and workouts, turning his body into a lean, muscular machine uniquely adapted for the quarterback role. He swore the good diet and fitness regimen minimized injuries and would keep him playing longer.

  Yet another way he opted to forego pleasure for obligation, dutifully doing the right thing.

  “Maybe some families sacrifice one spouse’s career for the sake of the other’s.” She helped herself to a strawberry, grateful her job didn’t call for her to choke down extra protein at all hours of the day. “But I’m not sure how happy that makes everyone in the long run. Not to mention the hardship on the children. That’s a lot of moving around.”

  “Did you mind being on the road during the season as a kid?” Finished loading up his plate, he tugged an Adirondack chair closer to the glider and sat down.

  “Loaded question.” During the football season, she was able to spend more time with her father, but that came with its own set of challenges. She stared into the flames as she stroked the soft tuft of hair on César’s head. His suckling had slowed, reminding her she should move him to the other side to nurse.

  “You loved it and so did I. What’s loaded about that?”

  “We were overprivileged, with way too much freedom.” She didn’t want to raise her son like that. “Our parents didn’t keep track of us half the time and we could have gotten into all kinds of trouble.”

  “But we didn’t. And we learned self-sufficiency.”

  Lifting up César, she laid him against her shoulder and patted his back.

  “Having kids learn through trial by fire isn’t my idea of good parenting.” Even though she got the most time with her father during football season, he still seemed happiest with her when she amused herself all day and stayed out of his hair so he could focus on his duties with the Texas team.

  If that meant she made a game of seeing how long she could leave the hotel without anyone noticing she was gone, her father praised her—days later, of course—for how “good” she’d been during the week.

  “But you can be an effective parent whether you’re at home or not. My point is, kids are adaptable. They don’t need to be in the same house day in and day out to feel a sense of stability. That comes from family, not a place.” He worked methodically through his food and through his argument.

  The lawyer in her should appreciate the well-reasoned views, at least. But it frustrated her that this man, of all people, didn’t understand her better than that.

  He’d been a part of her past. He’d seen her father in action.

  “All the more reason why it’s important to build a functional, loving family and not a group bound by duty alone.” She shifted the baby to the other side and Jean-Pierre reached to reorganize her plate, her pillow and the prop under César’s head.

  “Being dutiful means being committed. Some people would think that’s a good thing in a family relationship. Devotion and commitment are important components of stability.” He even tugged the blanket back over her toes after it had gotten tangled from all the movement.

  She had to appreciate his thoughtfulness. But his carefully scripted sense of family? It sounded like a pale imitation of the kind of loving relationship she’d once dreamed about.

  “I’m sure César will benefit from those qualities.” There was a cool breeze carrying the dampness of the lake, so she wrapped the baby blanket tighter around him. “I’m anxious to work out a way to co-parent, too, believe me. But it’s been a long day and maybe we should table the rest of this discussion until tomorrow when I’m more clearheaded.”

  “You mean after you’ve had time to prepare your opening arguments?” He rose from his seat and paced the patio around the fire pit, one hand shoved in his pocket.

  “No.” She shook her head, wearier than ever despite the nap. “After I’ve caught up on some rest. I didn’t expect motherhood to be so exhausting and I think the added stress of knowing we needed to work out so much between us had
been weighing on me more than I realized. Now, it’s like all the stress of the last few months has just drained me.”

  He quit pacing.

  “Of course.” His nod was sympathetic. Dutiful. “May I take him from you? I’d appreciate the chance to put him back in his crib and tuck him in for the night.”

  Ah, that wasn’t just duty, though. She could hear the emotion behind the words, no matter how drily they were delivered.

  “Certainly. Thank you.” She wished, just for a moment, that he was tucking her in, too. Blinking fast, she ignored the wayward thought and passed César to his father. Jean-Pierre took him in one arm. With his other hand, he reached toward her, gently pulling her blouse back into place over her half-bared breast.

  Her eyes flew to his. Held.

  “Thank you, Tatiana, for taking good care of him.” Jean-Pierre covered the baby’s back with his broad hand and patted gently. “I hope we can learn to be friends again somehow. For his sake, we will need to trust each other.”

  “We will.” She had to believe that. She loved her newborn son. There was no other option than to find a way through this mess she’d made in not letting Jean-Pierre know sooner. “Tonight was a start for the three of us. Having you with me allowed me to catch up on some much-needed rest. Tomorrow, we’ll figure out our next steps.”

  “A boat ride is good for clearing the head.” He extended a hand to her. “Can I walk you back to your room?”

  “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll watch the stars a little longer and have a cup of the tea.” She needed to give herself a mental pep talk before his family descended on them tomorrow. Before that boat ride that he’d promised.

  The excursion wouldn’t include César, so she wouldn’t have her son’s warm weight in her arms, reminding her to tread carefully with Jean-Pierre.

  “I’ll be glad to know you’re down here enjoying some quiet time.” He brushed a touch along her cheek, stirring her curls and her awareness. “We could make one hell of a team, Tatiana.”

  For a moment, she wanted to tell him that their time to figure that out had passed. That they’d had a chance to be together long ago and lost it. Twice. First when they caved to family pressure to split up. Again when they settled a heated disagreement with sex instead of talking.

  But she couldn’t end the night on a sad note. He was trying, after all. And he would make a great father for César. But after the way he’d walked out on her ten months ago, he simply would never be more than that to her.

  * * *

  “Care to tell me why I have to read the papers to find out my kid brother is in town?”

  Straightening from his work on the midsize power yacht he’d towed out of the boathouse, Jean-Pierre squinted into the morning sunlight to see Dempsey on the dock.

  As the New Orleans Hurricanes head coach, Dempsey was the public face of the team owned by their older brother, Gervais. All too soon, they’d be standing on opposite sides of the football field inside the Zephyr Dome, pitted against each other in the matchup that had both the local and national sports media talking.

  “You knew damn well I’d be coming down here to steal a firsthand look at your playbook.” Jean-Pierre strode across the bow toward the back of the boat as Dempsey stepped aboard. “Good to see you, bro.” He threw a few air punches at him by way of greeting.

  Dempsey clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re supposed to be here for a wedding, not work.”

  “That, too.” Jean-Pierre returned to fixing the trim on a fishing-rod holder that had snapped while the boat was in storage. “Have a seat. Tell me what’s new.”

  “How about you tell me? Sounds like this thing with Tatiana Doucet is new.” Dempsey slid into the captain’s seat and went to work checking the electrical components for him, systematically flipping switches and looking below the bridge area at the wiring.

  Dempsey was good like that. Technically his half brother, Dempsey had been raised until he was thirteen without knowing who his real father was, so he didn’t have the same upbringing as the rest of the Reynauds. For thirteen years he’d taken care of his drug-addicted mother, getting by on a meal or two a day. And while he lived a far more extravagant lifestyle now, he’d never really shaken that complete self-reliance. And his ability to fix things with his own two hands was legendary.

  Although right now, Jean-Pierre sincerely hoped he wasn’t the target for his brother’s next fix-it-up project.

  “You can’t blame me for trying to spin a story for the press after she threw me under the bus with that comment about not betting against Henri for our matchup.” He understood now why she’d said it. She’d been nervous about seeing him and overtired from caring for a newborn.

  It still stung that she’d said it. The way it still stung that she hadn’t told him she was pregnant months ago.

  He twisted a nut tighter with his vise grips, his teeth grinding in frustration.

  “I get it. I’ve been known to use the media to my advantage in the past.” Dempsey thumbed through the open tool kit on the deck and pulled out a volt meter. “When I didn’t want Adelaide to quit her job as my personal assistant, I announced our engagement.”

  Jean-Pierre put down the vise grips and stared at his brother. “Seriously? I thought you two were crazy about each other.”

  “That came later.” Dempsey used the volt meter to test the battery and tossed it back in the tool kit. “And it wasn’t easy for her that I put her on the spot like that.”

  “It worked, though. You’re engaged for real now, aren’t you?” He wondered how well he knew his brother after all.

  “Damn straight. But I can tell you it wasn’t as easy as me saying it was so. Women expect a lot more than that.”

  And men expected to be informed of impending fatherhood. But clearly he and Tatiana were making this up as they went along.

  “I know smoothing things out with Tatiana isn’t going to be easy, either.” He debated how much to say on the subject and then decided to go for broke. “She left town this summer and I didn’t know why until two nights ago. She gave birth to our son without telling anyone. Not even her family.”

  Dempsey’s eyes widened for a split second before he could school his features. “You weren’t there with her when your boy was born?”

  Jean-Pierre tensed at the accusation in his brother’s tone.

  “I didn’t even know about him. She never told me she was pregnant.” Jean-Pierre could hear the frustration in his own voice; he sure hadn’t expected to have to defend himself to his own family.

  “You weren’t in a relationship?”

  “Correct.”

  “You’re damn well in one now.” His brother got to his feet.

  He forced himself to stay levelheaded about this and not engage. But Dempsey looked twitchy and judgmental, a combination that didn’t sit real well with him right now.

  “I need more time to convince her of that.” His gaze moved to the second-floor veranda, where her bedroom doors opened onto a private patio. There’d been no movement outside yet, but he’d spoken to the nanny before he left the house and showed her around the place so she knew where to find anything she needed.

  “Do I need to remind you why it’s important that you do?” Dempsey’s voice lowered, but it didn’t soften. He’d adopted his steely coaching persona, so it was a face Jean-Pierre recognized from the field.

  “Hell no.” He understood Dempsey’s take on this would be different. The guy had grown up not knowing his father or half brothers. “I’m not Dad. I would never ignore my obligation to my son.”

  “Then why is Gervais beating you to the altar next weekend?”

  “What part of ‘I just found out two days ago’ did you not understand?” Frustration simmered at the implication he hadn’t done enough.

  “The part that h
ad my college-educated brother failing to make use of the local justice of the peace.” Dempsey made a show of checking his watch. “The clerk’s office is open right now.”

  “It’s Saturday.” Jean-Pierre had a good plan for using the boat ride to provide a photo opportunity for any media looking for a story. The watercraft rocked gently beneath his feet.

  “And lucky for you, I happen to know they have Saturday hours. One of my star players got his girlfriend pregnant last year and I looked it up when I gave my guy the same talk I’m giving you now.”

  Jean-Pierre shook his head. He normally appreciated Dempsey’s down-to-earth take on things, but he couldn’t see a way to twist Tatiana’s arm to get married. He respected her too much to push her hard when she had been through so much on her own in the last weeks. She’d even admitted she was at an emotionally vulnerable place right now. What kind of man would he be to try and capitalize on that?

  “You can spare me the rest of the talk since I already popped the question. The bride said no, for the record. Until I can close that particular deal, I would appreciate some help from the family to show her how welcoming the Reynauds can be.”

  “You know you don’t have to ask. But it’s only a matter of time before someone from the press spots her with the baby and then what? The media spotlight you’re in now is going to be nothing compared to the juicy news that a player knocked up the coach’s daughter.”

  Jean-Pierre’s head snapped up.

  “That’s my future wife you’re talking about.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Dempsey clapped him on the shoulder. “The sooner you make it so, the better.” He climbed out of the boat and up onto the dock. “One more thing. I forgot the whole reason I came over here.”

  “What’s up?” Jean-Pierre shoved the remaining tools in the tool kit and tucked it into a storage bin on the port side.

  “Gervais and Erika are concerned about a media circus if they hold the wedding here as planned. They’re going to assemble guests here and then fly them to the private island off Galveston.”