Along Came Love

by Tracey Livesay

  She patted her dark hair, riotous curls swept behind an ear. “It’s called being fashionably late. Isn’t the end result worth a little extra time?”

  Robert’s face softened. “You’ll always be worth it.”

  Mike’s smile—­formed from his father’s obvious adoration of his mother—­crumbled as he noted the room’s last two entrants. He spared a glance for Morgan long enough to note how grown-­up and poised she looked in a light purple strapless dress with a full gauzy skirt that ended above her knee.

  But as much as he loved his sister, she’d be a footnote in the ode he’d compose about Indi.

  She also wore a strapless dress, though hers was cream, and it molded to her plump breasts, offering a teasing sample of the pleasing entity covered by the fabric. An interesting sunburst design adorned the bodice in rippling shades of blue that not only added a dramatic element to the dress, but also hid the slight bump that had finally appeared announcing Nugget’s presence. Her braids had been pulled off her face and secured at the crown of her head, the long ends falling gracefully down her back.

  He swallowed.

  She was, without any hesitation, without any equivocation, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

  “Look at his face,” Morgan said, laughing. “I guess that means we picked the right dress.”

  Hell yeah, they did.

  Foregoing conscious intent, he crossed to her, only to halt when she tipped her head to the side, a groove creasing her subtly makeup-­enhanced brow and her fingers gripping the cream-­colored box masquerading as her purse.

  “I wasn’t expecting this. Everything’s happening so fast and I need some time. Can we keep it between us? For a little while longer?”

  Then she should’ve worn a different dress.

  Fuck.

  His hunger for her rampaged inside his chest like a leashed predator scenting his prey. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to reach for her, slide an arm around her waist, slip his other hand under the fall of her hair, grip the back of her neck and take her lips in a kiss that left no doubt in the mind of any of the room’s occupants, including her, that she belonged to him. That she carried his child. That they would be a family.

  But . . . he’d promised her.

  He cleared his throat. What was up with his sudden esophageal issues? “You both look beautiful,” he said. “Shall we go?”

  TWO HOURS LATER, the Barton Point Country Club’s ballroom was packed with ­people Mike had known his entire childhood. The hardwood floors gleamed and white linen-­topped tables were spread along the periphery. Another large table was elevated and placed at the front of the room. Crystal chandeliers created a soft glow. If their lateness had been noticed, it hadn’t been commented upon. Throngs came forward to talk to his parents, marvel over Mike and Morgan, and seek an introduction to Indi. Several ­people thought she looked familiar, but no one had been able to tie it to the ­People magazine spread.

  Dinner was served and at the end of the meal the mayor toasted his father, thanking him for his many years of ser­vice and his countless contributions to the town. Robert’s speech was a master class in public speaking: he thanked the town for the honor, declared his undying loyalty to Barton Point, and professed his love to his family. Respect and admiration shone on the faces surrounding them and Mike was struck by the facility with which his father switched between his public persona and his private. None of these ­people would recognize in the good-­natured, jovial man before them the glacial-­gazed patriarch who tolerated nothing less than total submission from his children.

  Afterward, Mike pulled Indi onto the dance floor as the string quartet cycled through the venerable playlist reserved for the country club crowd. Once again, he marveled at the dichotomous experience of having her in his arms—­the tension her nearness eased being replaced with a taut desire her proximity stoked. This is what he’d wanted from the moment he’d seen her in the dress. In her matching heels they were almost able to dance cheek to cheek. Almost, but not quite.

  He pressed his cheek against her temple and inhaled. She smelled amazing, her usual warm vanilla scent kicked up a notch. Mixed with something . . . exotic? Floral?

  He nibbled the tip of her ear.

  “Stop it,” she hissed.

  She butted his head to dislodge him and the sapphire and diamond studs she wore—­his mother’s, he recognized—­brushed his chin.

  He flexed the hand that caressed her hip and leaned back so he could look into her face, aware that the motion brought the lower half of their bodies into intimate contact. She gasped and swept her tongue out to lick her bottom lip. The corner of his mouth lifted in a salute of her response to him.

  “I can’t help it. You smell incredible.”

  “It’s a new scented oil I bought. But that doesn’t matter. If you keep nibbling my ear, pressing me close, and nuzzling my neck, ­people will suspect there’s something between us.”

  He hated to burst her delusional bubble, but she hadn’t realized her mere entrance with the family, at his side, declared to all who’d attended that there was something very definitely between them. He’d dated his share of women, and a lot of it had been reported in the San Francisco society pages, but he’d never brought them home to meet his family, let alone invited them to a family function. For all of his intentions to propose to Skylar, he hadn’t told her about the event.

  No, Indi’s presence at the gala was enough to convince half the attendees they were seriously involved. And his don’t-­even-­think-­about-­it stare to any man who dared gawk at her longer than politeness decreed was enough to convince the other half.

  “Don’t you like it when I nibble your ear, press closer to you, and nuzzle your neck?” He executed every action immediately after listing it.

  Her face softened and her lashes lowered. “Of course I like it.”

  Any blood that had managed to remain attached to his brain cells took the expressway south to his cock. If she insisted they had to keep their relationship a secret during this visit, then it was time for them to leave.

  He growled into her ear. “We are hitting the road tomorrow morning as soon as we wake up. That’ll get us home by eleven and me inside of you by eleven-­oh-­five.”

  Her answering smile was slow, knowing, and dick-­stirringly sexy. “I hope—­” Her eyes suddenly focused on something over his shoulder.

  “Indi?”

  She shook her head but when their bodies shifted in dance, her head swiveled on her neck to keep that something in her line of vision. Her lips tightened. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Indi—­”

  She slid from his grasp before his fingers could tighten to keep her near.

  Dammit.

  Flashes of cream wove between the circulating ­couples as he tried to follow her, but well-­wishers impeded his progress and he lost her in the crowd.

  He exhaled, raked his fingers through his hair.

  “You must be so proud of your father.”

  He smiled and nodded his head to the umpteenth person who’d repeated that sentiment to him. “I am, Mr. Walker.”

  Neal Walker had been a Barton Point High School guidance counselor and the faculty adviser to the Future Business Leaders of America club.

  “I met your friend. She’s a lovely woman.” Mr. Walker dipped his head slightly to the side. “A bit unusual, but I found her charming.”

  He resisted the urge to shout in triumph. There she was . . . talking to Morgan?

  “I don’t know if your father mentioned it, but my grandson, Ronnie—­Ronald, was just accepted into Stanford.”

  “Congratulations.” His sister’s gestures were animated but Indi grabbed her wrists and lowered them, giving the appearance of trying to calm her down. His attention swung back to the man in front of him. “He couldn’t attend a better sch
ool.”

  “He’s really nervous about it, and since it’s your alma mater, I wondered if you could maybe talk to him . . .”

  Morgan kept trying to get around her, but Indi parried the move by stepping in front of her. Finally, Morgan placed a firm hand on Indi’s arm, said something that caused Indi to stumble back a ­couple of steps, then strode with purpose across the room toward—­

  “Never mind. I know how busy you must be and I—­”

  Shit.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Walker,” he apologized, his upbringing kicking in, manners on autopilot. He took out a business card and handed it to the other man. “Have Ronnie give me a call. I’d be happy to talk with him.”

  Mr. Walker tapped the card against his closed fist. “You’ve always had this ability to achieve whatever you’ve put your mind to. I remember the beginning of your sophomore year when the principal doubted your ability to set up a small in-­school supply store. You made him eat his words with a huge opening the week of Valentine’s Day.”

  The memory surprised a laugh from Mike. “Sales were helped by the single long-­stemmed red roses I stocked. I knew lots of guys were feeling the pressure to do something romantic for their girlfriends.”

  “You could’ve argued to keep the money or given in to the pressure to give it to the school. But establishing a small scholarship in the name of Gregory Hazlett after the accident, well . . . it was just a hint of the wonderful man you’d grow up to be.” Sincere admiration warmed the other man’s gaze. “We’re so proud of you, Mike.”

  Mike braced himself for the spiked ball of guilt that materialized in his gut whenever Greg’s name was mentioned. To his surprise, though he felt a measure of grief, the guilt he’d harbored for so long failed to appear.

  Indi. She’d urged him to let it go. And he had.

  Letting her go?

  Not an option.

  “Thank you, Mr. Walker. It was good to see you. And please, give my best to your wife. Would you excuse me for a moment?”

  They shook hands and Mike stared at the spot he’d last seen Indi. She was gone. Instituting a methodical grid search, he let his gaze skim over the crowd until it finally alighted on the lithe figure he sought. He stopped her with a touch to her shoulder, the skin on skin contact sending currents of sensation up his arm. “What’s going on?”

  “You may want to get your mother and head to the vestibule.” Indi shook her head and bit her lower lip. “I tried to tell her this wasn’t the place to confront your father, but she’s adamant.”

  Confront his father? About what, studying abroad? Here?

  Following Indi’s discreetly pointed finger, he saw Morgan approach his father, who sat holding court near the dais. She spoke into his bent ear. Robert straightened and frowned down at her, but he excused himself from his round table of admirers and followed his daughter. Indi was right; they were heading toward the small foyer connecting the large hall to one of the ballroom’s side entrances.

  “Hurry,” he urged, lengthening his stride to cover the distance.

  Indi’s refusal stopped him. “This is a family matter. I don’t think I should be there.”

  He grabbed her hand and stroked his thumb along her knuckles. “How many times do I have to tell you? You’re family now. Come on.”

  They stepped into the middle of a heated conversation.

  “We’re not doing this here,” Barbara said, her rapid blinking doing nothing to diminish the sheen of her eyes. Though her distress was unmistakable, he quickly discerned that the main disagreement was between his father and his sister.

  “If you think I’m going to pay for you to run off halfway around the world, you’d better think again.”

  “I don’t need you to pay for it. There are programs and scholarships available. I’ll find a way to cover the tuition and fees myself.”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To have everyone think I can’t pay for my daughter’s education—­”

  “This isn’t about you,” Morgan said. “It’s about me and my heritage.”

  “Of course it’s about us,” his father said, dismissing her assertion. “Your mother and I have loved and raised you for eighteen of your nineteen years, and after a year and a half of college you decide to shit on all we’ve done for you?”

  Morgan flinched. “That’s not what I’m doing.”

  “That’s what it sounds like to me.”

  “Because you’re not listening.” Morgan threw her hands up, her frustration evident. “I love you, too, but this isn’t about my love. Look around you, at all of the ­people here. They all look like you. No one here looks like me. Have you ever been called a chink? Or had someone sniff your hair and say it smelled like rice?”

  His mother gasped. “No!”

  “Yes,” Morgan whispered, the word insufficient to house the pain radiating in her eyes.

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

  “Because I was a little kid. I thought if I didn’t say it out loud, maybe you wouldn’t notice I was different.” She looked down. “I didn’t want to hand you a reason to give me back.”

  Coldness sucker punched Mike in his core. He’d never known his sister had faced these situations or experienced such loneliness. If he’d given it a second of thought, he would’ve. His best friend had Asperger’s. From countless conversations with Adam, he was aware of the feelings being different brought. He should’ve initiated the conversation, asked how she was feeling. That’s what a big brother was supposed to do.

  “You’re not buying this are you, Barbara? We live in an upscale town. These ­people have been our friends and neighbors for years.” Robert shook his head at his daughter. “I can’t believe you would lob such vile and ugly accusations.”

  Morgan expelled a sound reminiscent of a wounded animal and crossed her arms over her midsection, turning away from them.

  Mike frowned. How many times had he been a player in a similar scene, where his father had shot down Mike’s thoughts and opinions and asserted his own? It’d been hard to see in his own life but watching Morgan go through it made him want to—­

  “I can.”

  Mike’s head spun toward Indi. She was staring his father down, her bearing strong, expression defiant.

  “Excuse me?” Robert said.

  “I can believe Morgan’s accusations.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’ve experienced similar situations.”

  Morgan’s posture slowly unraveled and she stared at Indi, trembling fingers pressed against her lips.

  “I’m sorry. India, is it?”

  Mike bristled. His father goddamn well knew her name. His hands curled into fists at his side. “Dad . . .”

  “This is a family matter,” Robert said to her, ignoring him. Big surprise. “It’s none of your business.”

  Indi shrugged. “Family doesn’t mean a lot to me. Friendship does.” She left Mike’s side and moved to stand next to his sister. “And Morgan is my friend.”

  Morgan squeezed Indi’s hand.

  His father narrowed his eyes. “After three days?”

  Her eyes veered to Mike briefly before refocusing on her target. “When two ­people connect, the length of their acquaintance is irrelevant.”

  His heart shifted in his chest, as if awakening from a deep slumber.

  She continued. “Morgan wanting to study in Seoul isn’t a rejection of you as much as it’s a way to embrace a part of herself.”

  Mike watched Indi, floored. She was incredible. She’d seen someone in need and rushed to help her. Even now, in the face of his father’s prick-­ness, she provided comfort to Morgan. She had an immense capacity for love and a nurturing spirit. Despite her fears and concerns, he knew she’d be an excellent mother. He just needed her to believe it, too.

  An ugly sneer distorted Robert’s features. “I’m sure someo
ne somewhere values your viewpoint and opinion. I do not.”

  Anger veiled Mike’s vision. “That’s enough.”

  “If I understand your background, your experience isn’t similar to Morgan’s. We chose our daughter. She grew up in a loving family. You were shuffled through the foster care system.”

  Indi’s mouth tightened, but she forged on. “That’s why I understand. Take my advice—­”

  “That’s just it. I don’t want to take advice from an unmarried pregnant woman who probably doesn’t know who fathered her child.”

  Blood thundered in his ears. “Dad!”

  “Robert!”

  The outrage in those voices echoed throughout the small antechamber.

  Indi smoothed a hand down her braids. “Mrs. Black, thank you for your hospitality this weekend.”

  “India—­” Barbara said.

  Placing a hand on her belly, Indi turned to go.

  Mike stopped her, cupping her face in his hands, his thumbs wiping away the tears he couldn’t see, but he knew had to be there.

  “I’m so sorry, baby,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against hers. He needed the contact to stop himself from giving in to the violence that rippled beneath his skin. “I’ll handle this. I promise he’ll never speak to you like that again.”

  She gripped his wrists. “No, Mike. Please, don’t do this.”

  “Let her leave, son. It’s for the best.”

  He twisted to face his father. “Shut up,” he ordered, the words barely coherent as they were steeped in his rage.

  Robert’s head snapped back, his shoulders stiffening.

  “You’ve been wrong about a lot of things,” Mike said, stepping into the welcoming embrace of his anger, “but never as wrong as you are in this moment.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Mike, you promised!”

  “Indi won’t be unmarried for long,” he said triumphantly. “She knows the father of her child. It’s me.”

  A familiar but unexpected voice intruded upon the shocked silence.

  “Then you have some serious explaining to do,” Franklin Thompson exclaimed, his pale skin reddening with anger.