This health stuff could get very old, very fast. “I don’t drink milk.”
“But—”
“Yes, I know. I’m going to get my diet straightened out. And I’m going to work on a health regimen.” Anything, she would say anything to make him change the subject. “Not that I eat badly anyway, but I do need to make some changes.”
“Sit there.’’ He pointed to his comfortable old chair, and kept pointing until Celina sat down. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover this evenin’. How about some juice?”
“Nothing now, thank you. But don’t let me stop you.”
If he heard her, he didn’t react. Instead, he fell into one of his favorite pastimes—pacing. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since you came to see me on the Lucky Lady.”
“I believe you. I’m sure we’ve both been doing a lot of thinking.”
“You’re going to say Errol was your baby’s father. That is what you meant, isn’t it?”
There wasn’t any room for remorse, not now, not when all that mattered was the future of her baby. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without him,” she said, not intending to. “I could tell him anything. If he thought I was foolish sometimes, he never said so.” But she’d never seen him as angry as he had been when she told him she was pregnant, and what Wilson had done to her. That had been only days before Errol died. Before she’d thought—crazy as it seemed now—that she could somehow manage not to tell anyone ever. But then she’d started getting messages from Wilson again. Not a lot, but even one would have been too many. And he’d showed up in Royal Street when she was alone, with some phony pretense of wanting to make a donation to Dreams. Then he had tried to put his arms around her and the fixed look had entered his eyes, the same look he’d had that other night. Celina managed to contain a shudder. Wilson had tried to put his arms around her and she’d heard the buzzing in her head—and felt herself begin to faint. Antoine had appeared and the moment passed, but she’d realized how vulnerable she was and how much she needed a good friend. Errol had been the only one she trusted enough to approach with her story.
“I know you thought a lot of him,” Jack said.
Errol had threatened to tear Wilson apart. Only Celina’s pleading and her insistence that she didn’t want anyone to know Wilson was her baby’s father had stopped Errol from going after the man.
She brought her attention back to Jack. “I’m going to try to get by without naming anyone in this. If I don’t have to, I won’t.”
“Either you will or you won’t.”
“This isn’t cut-and-dried, Jack. Please don’t ask me to explain.”
“There could be a situation that would make you decide to say Errol fathered your child?”
“I thought we were going to discuss business,” Celina said. “We didn’t get anything done this morning. I want to approach the administrator at St. Peter’s Hospital and see if he’ll endorse a statement in Errol’s defense. And I’ve got to act as quickly as possible to keep our work moving along. There are projects in every phase. The need for them isn’t going away.”
“Going directly to Garth Fletcher at St. Peter’s is a good idea. I’ll talk to him.”
His take-charge instincts annoyed Celina. “I know Garth too. I was often with Errol when he went to see him.”
Jack paced on in silence.
“I need to feel as if I’m doing something,” she told him. “You can understand that, can’t you?”
“Yes. Were you ever engaged?”
Celina drummed her fingers on the arms of the chair. “I’ve never been engaged. Would it work for you if we both went to talk to Garth?”
“Possibly. I take family very seriously.”
“Because you lost yours?” She waved a hand in front of her face. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Why not? You said it because you thought it. I did lose my parents. And I lost my wife. But I always thought family was important. You don’t like me, do you?”
She laughed, then coughed.
“Do you need some water?”
“No. And I like you as much as you will allow me to like you. You are not a soft and cuddly person, Jack.”
A faint smile brought some humanity to his austere face. “How would you know?”
He managed to make her blush yet again. “You’re cold, that’s what I should have said.”
“No, I’m not. I’m just out of practice in some areas, so I seem cold. People who know me really well do like me. Some people.”
This man was the king of bizarre conversation. “I’m sure lots of people like you.”
“You could come to like me too. People grow on you if you let them.”
She absolutely would not tell him that she couldn’t understand why he cared what she thought of him, or that she wished far too frequently that…She was in an “interesting” condition. Any yearning for male attention could be blamed on that.
No, it couldn’t. And she didn’t yearn for attention from any man but Jack Charbonnet, darn it.
He watched her with absolute concentration. The denim shirt he’d had on in the morning had been replaced by a white shirt that drew attention to his tan, and to the darkness of his hair. “You’ve never been engaged,” he said. “Is that because you don’t like the idea of marriage?”
“No.” If his probing questions drew only monosyllabic answers, he might give up the interrogation.
“I take marriage very seriously too.”
“Good. You take family and marriage seriously.” Drat, sometimes she couldn’t hold her tongue.
“You think that’s a bad thing?” His eyes were so green tonight that they were hard to look at, then hard to look away from. “Celina, what do you think?”
Why did he care what she thought? “I agree with you on both points.”
“I loved my wife very much. We met in high school. There was never anyone else for either of us.”
It was no good, she had to try to understand him. “Why are you telling me these things?”
“Because I want you to know me.”
“I suppose you’d be insulted if I told you I’m completely bemused by this entire conversation.”
That stopped him. He dropped to sit on the floor beside her chair. With his long legs crossed and his face turned up to hers, he appeared younger, less sure of himself.
“Elise’s death was the kind of shock you think you’ll never get over,” he said. “And maybe you never do—not completely. She…Elise struggled with depression. I never realized how serious it was until it was too late. Postnatal depression added to what she’d already been fighting was too much. She killed herself. My parents were murdered.”
Celina touched his face impulsively. She couldn’t answer. There was nothing to say, especially not I’m sorry. I’m sorry would be so inadequate. Certainly she couldn’t brush him off with a reminder that everyone knew his parents had been murdered. Instead, she looked into his eyes and smiled a little, and let her hand come to rest on his shoulder.
He smiled back and put her hand on the arm of the chair again, and kept one of his own on top. “Thanks. I’m okay about it now.”
“You can’t be.”
“If you’re going to be close to someone—for whatever reason—there has to be honesty between you.”
All sensation centered where his skin met hers. “I believe in honesty. And I don’t believe in posturing. I’ve had to spend too much time with people who posture. You don’t do that.”
His smile broadened. “Does that mean you find somethin’ honorable in me? Somethin’ you might even like?”
Celina made herself look away. “You could get that lucky. Who knows?”
“I’d like Amelia to have a woman in her life. Tilly’s a godsend, but she isn’t a mother figure.”
“If you want to marry again, Jack, you know you can. I’m sure women would line up to be your wife.” Now he would think she was telling him how attractive he was.
“How
about you? Would you line up?”
“I don’t like lines. I’m too impatient.”
“You just want to be at the head of the line?”
Word games, word games. “I’m getting tired.” And she was exhausted by this verbal sparring. “We haven’t done a whole lot that’s useful, but I do think going to St. Peter’s is a good idea, and I’m glad you agree.”
“Good. We’ll do what you suggest, and go together.”
He sounded different, not relaxed or more gentle, just different.
“Right after Elise died, I didn’t want to consider marrying again. Not ever. Once I did think about it, 1 decided the most important thing would be to make sure Amelia wasn’t going to be exposed to something unpleasant. Like a divorce.”
Okay, she would play along. “Divorce can happen. It’s too bad when a marriage fails, but I can understand how it happens.”
“If you’re careful from the outset, it doesn’t have to. Errol would have married you if the baby was his.”
“Errol asked me to marry him,” she told Jack with total honesty. “He died before I had a chance to give him an answer.” Errol had wanted to marry her the moment she told him there was a baby. She’d just about decided to take him up on the offer, when he’d died.
“Why would you need time to think about a thing like that?”
“No one should marry out of a sense of responsibility.”
“Errol wanted to marry you only because of the baby?”
Celina let her eyelids lower. Her hand was still beneath Jack’s on the chair. “I think Errol might have wanted to marry me anyway.” She knew he had. “The baby made him reach a decision.” Errol had even tried to take her to buy an engagement ring.
“You didn’t love him?”
“Not in that way.”
“So let me get this straight.” His fingers closed around her wrist. “You only wanted Errol for sex. And you say the baby you’re carrying is the result of some of that mindless sex. You couldn’t make up your mind to marry Errol because you didn’t think of him in that way.”
“I was going to marry him.” She wasn’t in a position to make any protests. She heard him suck in a sharp breath. He touched her cheek and she jumped. He turned her face toward him, but she kept her eyes almost shut.
“Look at me, please. I want to see your eyes.”
Slowly she did as he asked.
“I’m sorry for Errol’s sake that you couldn’t love him.” Celina smiled and felt sadness deep inside. “I’m sorry about that too, but we can’t force love.”
His thumb stroked back and forth on her cheek. “Could I try something and hope you won’t scream, or slap me?” Rising to his knees, he regarded her face minutely as if he could somehow find a way to see inside her. “I’ll take my chances.”
Jack Charbonnet’s mouth should be outlawed. He settled it over hers. Firm, but gentle, gentle but insistent, insistent but carefully so. He kissed her with insistent pressure, but without attempting to open her mouth. With a hand behind her head, he kept on kissing her.
And Celina started to kiss him back. She ached all over, a wonderful ache, a sensation more intense than she’d ever felt. The most natural thing imaginable was to slip her own hands around his neck and tangle her fingers in his hair. He smelled clean, clean skin, clean shirt. The start of his beard growth rubbed her chin, and she shuddered with pleasure. For this one suspended fraction of time she wouldn’t question what was happening. His mouth tasted like coffee and mint.
She tightened her arms around his neck, and he wrapped her tightly to him. They kissed and kissed, and Celina didn’t care that kissing Jack Charbonnet should be the most unlikely thing ever to happen to her.
His fingertips brushing up and down her spine left a sensitive trail that spread. Her breasts were crushed to his chest. Their increased fullness was something she had tried to hide, but his hard chest against them brought potently erotic pleasure.
With a reluctance she felt, he took his mouth from hers. With the backs of his fingers he stroked the sides of her neck. “A successful experiment,” he said, his voice even quieter than usual. “What do you think?”
“I think I’m amazed. The kiss was great—lovely. Thank you. But why would you kiss me?”
“Just to find out what it was like. And because I wanted to.” I liked it very much too. I’m going to want to do it again. But maybe we shouldn’t push it too soon.”
“Are you trying to suggest you think we’re going to be doing a lot of kissing?” She was Celina Payne and she wasn’t in the habit of talking to men about whether or not they intended to kiss her.
“You are a very lovely woman. I’m not surprised you won beauty pageants.”
She cleared her throat. “I’m trying to forget I was ever in those pageants. It embarrasses me.”
“You glow, Celina. Did you know that? It’s not an old wives’ tale. Pregnancy makes even plain women pretty, and you are not plain, my dear.”
My dear. Was that actually a term of endearment, or just a figure of speech?
“I’d better go home.”
“I’m going to take you soon. Will Cyrus be there?”
“Yes. He was only stepping out for a little while.”
“Did Antoine come back and talk to you this afternoon?”
“No. He really looked upset again this morning. He and his wife are very close, so I’m sure he wanted to be with her.” Jack’s hands, settling on her stomach, stunned Celina.
“You don’t mind, do you?” he asked.
“Well…I don’t suppose I do.”
“People want to touch babies in the womb. I guess it’s a hangover from when a baby belonged to a whole tribe and everyone felt proprietary toward it.”
“Could be,” she agreed.
He fanned his fingers and stroked, then shocked her again by settling his ear on her navel. “Who’s in there? Speak up. What’s your name?”
She giggled and said, “You’re silly,” then couldn’t believe she’d said such a thing to him.
His expression, when he raised his head, was softly smug. “Wait till you feel that little tyke move. We’ll see who gets silly then.”
“Maybe. Why are you being so nice to me?”
“Somebody should be. You’re pregnant and pretty much alone. You’re going to keep the baby against difficult odds. I admire you for that.”
“I never had any choice. I wouldn’t want one.”
“Okay, on your feet.” He pulled her up, but instead of moving away he held her hands. “I’d like to get to know Cyrus better. He seems like a really nice guy.”
“He is. Cyrus is my champion. He always had been.”
“That’s great to hear.” The strangest expression entered his eyes. “My mother was pregnant when she died. I was going to have a brother.”
She clung to him, horrified. “That’s awful. How do you know it was a boy?”
He looked her straight in the eyes. “It was a boy.”
In other words, back off.
“It’s obvious what has to happen here, you know that, don’t you?”
Celina went blank. “No. Right now I’m a very fragmented woman.”
“You’re a Catholic, I presume.”
“I am, but I’d be keeping my baby anyway. It’s different for different people, but I couldn’t live with myself if I did anything else.”
“I like that. What do you think of prenuptial agreements?” She frowned. “I suppose I can see where they’re sometimes necessary.”
“Would you be offended if you were asked to sign one?”
“I don’t know.” She thought about it. “It could be that I’d think the man didn’t trust me not to take him for a ride or something.”
“I used to think like you. And at that point I was right. Things have changed, especially with this situation.”
She made a polite noise.
“Errol would never have asked for one,” he said.
“Do you mind if
we don’t talk about Errol for a while. I don’t want to cry, but I’m starting to feel a little shaky.”
“Sorry. I do believe I was thinking out loud. But that’s not what we’re dealing with here.”
“Isn’t it?” She wasn’t sure what they were dealing with anymore.
“By now you know exactly what I’ve got on my mind. It’s the only thing that makes sense. If we get right on it, we can be married within a week or so. I know you aren’t in love with me, but you need me and I’m prepared to do what needs to be done. Would you like your brother to marry us? If that’s important to you, it’s okay with me.”
“Marry us?”
“Perhaps he wouldn’t be able to. I’m not sure what that would entail with the Church, are you?”
Not a single coherent thought would settle long enough for Celina to respond.
Jack inclined his head and watched her face. He pressed her palms together and kept his hands over hers. “I’d decided this was the thing to do by this morning. There won’t even be a question about who the baby’s father is. It’ll be accepted that it’s mine. Later on we’ll have to decide what—”
“We?” She gathered enough wit to pull away from him. “We?”
“Celina—”
“Please stop. Not another word—please. You decided? This isn’t something you can decide.”
“But it makes sense.”
“You, Jack Charbonnet, are an arrogant …ass!”
Thirteen
A tiny staircase led from a narrow doorway in the corridor, behind Tilly’s rooms, and up to the attic, The stairs creaked, and the dust made Amelia want to cough. She had closed the door carefully behind her so no one could see the shine of her flashlight as she climbed.
She wasn’t supposed to go to the attic, but when she was lucky, she got to play up there almost every day. Tilly liked her to come home from school, eat her snack, and lie down to rest for a while. Amelia often waited until she heard Tilly go upstairs to her apartment again, then slipped from her own room and up the stairs.
This was the first time she’d come at night. Daddy would be angry if he found out, but he’d left with that lady Celina and probably wouldn’t be back too soon. Amelia was certain Daddy was dating Celina and she didn’t know how she felt about that yet. Tilly often talked about how Daddy should get married again because he was too young not to have a wife for the rest of his life, and because it would be a good thing for Amelia to have a mother. Amelia didn’t want a mother. She liked looking at the pictures of her real mother, and being with her daddy. But if Daddy needed a wife, then Amelia supposed she wouldn’t be a brat about it. She’d try anyway—unless Celina called her precocious like that lady Amelia and Daddy had met in the street once. The lady had kissed Daddy, and Amelia had told her she didn’t think that was appropriate. Then the lady said she was precocious.
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