by Susan Meier
Maybe he should just let it all alone? Let her work and ignore him. While he worked and ignored her. Stop trying to be friends?
That suddenly seemed like a very good idea.
He accessed his files and got lost in the financials for a project that was going sour, relaxing in the world he knew. Money. How to make it work for him. How to make sure his family never ran out. How to assure the McCallan legacy stood forever. The family name lived forever. Because that’s what he did. He made plans. He took control. And sometimes that control came in the form of letting his lawyers handle things.
Four hours later, they ate the sandwiches that had been prepared by the cook. Then Avery took a nap that lasted until an hour before they landed. When she woke, she spent the rest of the flight finishing up the work she’d been doing that morning. When the pilot turned on the fasten seatbelts sign, she tucked her files and notepads into her briefcase, then collected the laptop she’d lent him.
While she all but ignored him, he focused on deciding what he would say to his mom, introducing Avery to her and—hopefully—avoiding a meltdown.
Because at this point, that’s where his priority lay. With fixing that part of this problem.
* * *
Their descent into Paris was silent. Avery knew Jake was a bit miffed at her for not talking, but she was fine with that. She wasn’t sticking her foot in her mouth or saying something she’d regret by speaking before she was ready. Especially since the consequences of his finding out about their baby were finally sinking in.
Number one, she would lose her job. Conflict of interest wasn’t simply a matter of her not working on any of his cases. She couldn’t work for the law firm representing Jake in their custody battle. Not just for Jake’s protection, but for hers.
Number two, they would go to court over visitation. Jake was accustomed to getting his own way and would make demands she could never agree to. A judge would have to decide.
Number three, she needed an attorney. Hearings were no problem for Jake. He had a battery of lawyers, while she had...herself. She could probably do a credible job on her own, but someone once said a man who acts as his own attorney has a fool for a client. She wasn’t losing her dream of starting her law firm in Pennsylvania, or losing control of her child’s life because she didn’t spend the money for good counsel. As soon as she got back to New York, she would hire a lawyer.
Figuring all that out restored her confidence. The jet landed at eleven o’clock at night Paris time, though it was only five o’clock in New York. Walking to a waiting limo, Avery watched workers scurry to get their bags from the belly of the plane. In ten minutes, they were on the road.
“So how long until we get to the hotel?”
“Forty minutes.”
Still gruff. Still miffed.
Which was fine, except his gruffness reminded her of dating him, and that reminded her of stealing time at his penthouse, making love in his shower, grabbing a bagel on the way out the door because they didn’t stop to talk.
Neither of them had wanted to.
She ended those thoughts by looking out the window, at the countryside rolling by. It was too dark to see anything except open fields that gave way to clusters of houses and eventually the city.
Avery’s senses perked up. She’d never been to Europe before, let alone Paris. The Paris. Not just city of love, but city of culture and history. And, oh, dear God, the architecture. Streetlights showcased aged brick-and-stone buildings that lined the avenues like society matrons in the receiving line of an ambassador’s ball. The Eiffel Tower was lit like a beacon. Moonlight sparkled off the Seine.
By the time they reached their hotel, she was breathless. The limo pulled up in front of the entry of a building that looked to be five or six stories. White columns and white shutters accented weathered red brick. Brass lamps sat on either side of a revolving door trimmed in the same shiny metal.
The rotating door guided them into the lobby, as Jake walked with her, his hand on her elbow guiding her.
Which was probably more necessary than she wanted to admit. Her head swiveled from side to side, as she took in the luxurious black, gold and white lobby. She would have run into the bellman, two other hotel patrons and a coffee table if he hadn’t steered her away.
The man behind the reservation desk nodded to him. In perfect English, he said, “Good evening, Mr. McCallan.” He nodded at Avery. “Mademoiselle.”
“Good evening.”
“Your room, of course, is ready.” He handed a key card to Jake. “It’s your favorite.”
“Thank you.” He pocketed the key. “Have the concierge call the Bristol. Let my mother know we’ve arrived safely.”
“Very good.”
Avery’s happy bubble burst. She’d forgotten they were in Paris to talk to his mom. Working during the flight, thinking through her ever-changing situation with Jake and ogling the architecture on the drive here, she hadn’t given herself twenty seconds to prepare.
She glanced around the lush, expensive lobby, which suddenly seemed like a symbol for Jake’s mom. Fancy, elegant, rich.
She was so out of her element that hiring an attorney now looked like the smartest conclusion she’d ever drawn. She could not handle this family, fight their money, on her own, any more than her dad could fight Paul Barnes with a public defender.
They rode up in the elevator in silence and walked down an equally quiet corridor. White-wood-trimmed walls were painted a soothing gray. When Jake opened the door on the last room on the right, she realized she was following him to one room. His room.
“Are we sharing a room?”
“It’s a suite.”
It was a gorgeous suite. The original features of wide wood trim and carved crown molding paired with thick throw rugs and a comfortable sofa and chair to create a sitting room that was both sophisticated and comfortable.
“I’m not sleeping with you.”
“I never asked you to.”
“Why not just get me my own room?”
“Because I don’t want you to be alone.”
“What you really mean is you’re afraid I’ll bolt and you’ll be on your own with your mother.”
“No. Because if you bolt our deal is off. And that’s not good for you.” He sighed. “Look, you’re a pregnant woman in a strange city. Do you speak French?”
Her chin lifted. “Do you?”
He rattled off a line as smooth as silk and deliciously sexy.
“Point taken.”
“So, we settle in, have dinner and get a good night’s sleep before we talk to my mom in the morning. If we’re lucky, you’ll be back on the jet noon tomorrow.”
Disappointment sneaked up on her before she could stop it. She probably didn’t have a job to go back to. And she was in Paris. Paris. They were going to eat in a hotel, sleep, see his mom, then fly out? It hardly seemed fair.
The bellman discreetly entered. Jake pointed to the right. “Ms. Novak will take that room.” He turned and pointed at the second door. “I’ll take that room.”
As the bellman distributed their bags, Jake shrugged out of his jacket. “Before I shower, I’ll order room service. By the time I’m out, our dinner should be here.”
She sighed. “All neat and tidy, huh?”
“I’m tired, I’m hungry and tomorrow I have to tell my mom she’s going to be a grandmother in a few months, but we never told her. I’ll have to explain why she missed the joy of knowing, of seeing your belly grow, of buying gifts and telling her friends. If I want to relax in the shower I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”
Unexpected guilt shimmied through her. She’d never thought of his mother missing out. Mostly because she’d just plain never thought of his mother, never added her into the equation of the pregnancy.
She remembered her own mother’s elation whe
n Avery had told her. And her dad’s—
Jake’s dad died without knowing he would be a grandfather.
Sorrow swooped through her heart, leaving a trail of gut-wrenching regret in its wake. “I’m so sorry.”
Halfway to his room, he faced her. “You’re sorry?”
“Yes.”
His expression shifted, softened. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say that.” Then he turned and walked into his room.
She fell to the sofa. Guilt sat on her shoulders like one of the gargoyles she’d seen on a nearby building. She squeezed her eyes shut, then rose from the sofa and headed to her room.
Trying not to think about any of that, she showered. But as she stood in front of the mirror drying, she saw her pregnant belly.
She put her hands on either side just as the baby kicked. She hadn’t merely deprived Jake’s parents of the gift of knowing they were to be grandparents. She’d deprived Jake of so much more.
She slid the shower cap off her long, unruly red hair and combed it out before slipping into panties, a bra and an oversize T-shirt, getting ready for bed. She added the thick white robe provided by the hotel because the room had a slight chill. Then she padded to the door and opened it.
He was right about the food. A table had been set in the middle of the room, complete with a white linen cloth and a lovely bouquet of flowers as a centerpiece.
Jake stood by the window, looking out at the stunning display of lights woven through the city. When her door closed with a soft click, he turned from the window.
He wore sweatpants and a T-shirt, something similar to what he’d worn in the mornings when she’d stayed over at his penthouse. A memory tiptoed through her again. Him giving her a sexy kiss goodbye before she raced away to catch an elevator.
“I never thought to ask if you were hungry.”
The aroma of beef hit her, bringing her back to the present. She closed her eyes to savor it. “Starved.”
“I took the liberty of ordering a steak for both of us, but there’s also a bowl of steamed vegetables, and macaroni and cheese.”
“Macaroni and cheese and steak?”
“If it’s too fattening, eat one or the other.”
She approached the table. “Are you kidding? It’s my dream meal.”
He headed for the table, too. “Good.”
Before she could pull out her chair, he reached for it.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
He sat across from her and lifted the silver warmer from his plate. “Both steaks are medium.”
She lifted her warmer, too, and let the scent drift out to her. “Smells perfect.”
“Bread?”
He handed the basket to her and she winced. “I think steak and macaroni are enough calories for one night.”
He laughed. Sort of. He clearly thought what she’d said was funny, but he wasn’t ready to fully laugh with her yet. She supposed she didn’t blame him.
“So, have you figured out what to say to your mother?”
He shrugged. “Yes and no. I have a few ideas of how to soften the blow because I know how surprised she’ll be, and the loss she’ll feel when she realizes how much she missed.”
Because he’d felt it too. He didn’t have to say the words, she could hear the regret in his voice. Guilt rippled through her again at the same time the baby kicked.
She set down her fork and rose from her seat. She couldn’t make up for what he’d missed before—mostly morning sickness and exhaustion so she couldn’t feel too much remorse—but she could bring him up to speed right now.
Walking to his side of the table, she undid the belt of the fluffy white robe. “Baby’s kicking. Want to feel?”
CHAPTER FIVE
HIS GAZE FLEW to hers, his eyes wide with surprise. “Really?”
“Sure.”
Her T-shirt was so long she didn’t worry about the fact that she wore only bra and panties beneath it. The robe fell open.
He looked at her belly.
“Go ahead. Lay your hands on either side.”
He gingerly laid one hand on her T-shirt-covered baby bump.
She reached down and took his other hand and brought it to her stomach too. “We may have to wait a few seconds...oops. No. There he is.” She laughed. “Or she.”
Jake laughed nervously. “Oh, my goodness.”
“Feeling that makes it real, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.”
His voice was hoarse, so soft that she barely heard him. They had a mere three weeks of dating, but she knew that tone. His voice had gotten that way only one other time—the first time he’d seen her naked.
Something inside her cracked just a little bit. Her pride. He might be a stuffy aristocrat, but there was a part of him that was a normal man. And though she had her reasons for not wanting him to be involved with her child, she had to play fair.
The baby kicked again, and she stayed right where she was. “Ask me anything. I can see you’re dying to know.”
He smoothed his hands along her T-shirt as if memorizing the shape of her belly. “I’m not even sure what to ask.”
“There’s not a lot to tell. You already know I had morning sickness. At the end of a long day, I’m usually exhausted. But as far as the baby is concerned, this—” she motioned to her tummy “—feeling him move—is as good as it gets.”
The baby stopped. She waited a few seconds to see if he’d start up again, but he didn’t.
She stepped back. “Food’s getting cold.”
“Yes. Of course. Please eat.”
She smiled slightly and retied the belt of her robe as she walked back to her seat.
After spooning some macaroni and cheese into one of the small bowls provided, she dug in with gusto.
“I care about all of it, you know.”
She peeked up at him, over her macaroni. “All of what?”
“Not just the baby. You. I know you want to stay sharp in your profession, so you don’t want to quit your job, but...really... Avery. If you’d let me, you’d never have to work another day in your life.”
She studied him. This time the offer of money wasn’t condescending or out of place. It was his reaction to touching his child, albeit through her skin. And it was equal parts of moving and silly.
“Don’t let him or her wrap you around their little finger already.”
“What?”
“Oh, Jake. The first time he kicked I about fainted from the wonder of it. You’re drunk on happiness, awe, the joy of feeling your child for the first time.”
“It’s pretty awe-inspiring.”
“Yes. But at the end of the day, he or she is going to poop and spit up, cry all night, get skinned knees, ask for a car before he’s ready, be a moody teen and probably get into trouble somewhere along the way. Maybe even big trouble.”
He laughed. “Well, that certainly sucks all the mystery out of it.”
“I’m just trying to show you that this is real, not fantasy.”
“I get it.” He ate a bite of steak, then quietly cleared his throat. “But if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to hang on to the joy a bit.”
“Are you telling me I’m too much of a realist?”
“You’re too much of an arguer...too much of a lawyer. Always looking for something wrong or something to defend. Do you know that Pete spends most of his time spelling out what could go wrong with all my projects, all my deals, all my interactions?”
“That’s a lawyer’s job.”
He leaned back and laughed. “My point exactly.”
She’d never thought about it like that before, but what he’d said was true. She did look for trouble. Maybe because her teenage years had been so full of it with her dad’s arrest and conviction.
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“Huh.”
* * *
Jake watched Avery’s pretty face contort as she seemed to think that through. “What? No argument? You’re actually considering it?”
“Sort of.”
She spooned more macaroni into her mouth and his heart took a flip. As ridiculously antiquated as it was, he felt a powerful pride at feeding her, providing for her, and he suddenly knew that if he pushed this and demanded she recognize she always argued with him, no matter what he said, she’d shut down again.
Somehow a window or door of cooperation had opened and he did not want to see it close. In fact, if it killed him, he intended to keep it open.
The wonder of having felt his child move rolled through him again in a warm wave. He owed that to her. He’d have never thought to ask to feel the baby move. He had no experience with pregnancy. But she’d given him the opportunity. He wanted this cooperation to continue.
They finished their dinner and he tried to think of small talk, but none came. How did a couple top sharing the experience of feeling their child moving? A soft glow filled him, mellowed him. They couldn’t talk about it any more than they already had. But he still wanted to savor it.
So, he rose from the table. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to my room.”
“It’s only seven thirty, our time.”
“I know. I’ll watch a little television and hope to fall asleep because morning is going to be here really quickly.”
She gave him a polite smile. “Sure. I’ll watch some TV too. It’ll be fun trying to figure out what they’re saying since everything’s probably going to be in French.”
He could have suggested they watch together so he could translate for her, but he didn’t want to risk his good mood—or hers. He liked getting along with her and maybe he wanted to savor that, too.
“Good night.”
“Good night.”
He turned to walk to his room but before he was halfway there, she said, “By the way, what should I wear to meet your mother?”
