Road to Seduction (Kimani Romance)

by Christopher, Ann

  Shocked pity crept across Andrew’s face in the second or two before he managed to hide it. He opened his mouth, faltered, closed his mouth, and tried again. “Damn, man.” He paused, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. “I’m really sorry.”

  Nodding, Eric studied his shoes and tried to cap his emotions before they erupted again.

  They lapsed into a painful silence during which Eric imagined Andrew was privately thanking God for blessing him with healthy children when Eric had none. Finally, just as Eric was beginning to wonder whether Andrew would deliver any advice, excellent or otherwise, Andrew cleared his throat.

  “You could…adopt,” he said.

  This wasn’t a revolutionary idea, of course. Objectively Eric knew that when people who wanted children couldn’t have them, they adopted. It happened all the time. Big deal, right? Except he discovered that there was a huge difference between thinking about things in the abstract and applying them to your own life.

  Andrew had adopted, though, and look how well it’d turned out. Nathan was a great kid, and Eric would take him or someone like him, no problem. But what if there weren’t any more great kids out there like Nathan? What then? And Andrew had a biological child, too, and was soon to have another. Wasn’t there a glaring difference between how parents felt about their biological kids and their adopted kids?

  A flash of memory came from out of nowhere and intruded on his thoughts: Isabella’s father in his recliner, looking at him with wizened eyes and infinite understanding. It don’t matter what kind of fam’ly you come from, he’d said. It’s the kind of fam’ly you make that matters.

  At the time, Eric had interpreted this comment in terms of overcoming his troubled childhood and having a happy marriage even though his parents hadn’t, but now the words had a whole new meaning.

  Because if he and Isabella adopted, they’d be choosing the kind of family they wanted to make, wouldn’t they? And any family with Isabella at the heart of it would be a blessed family. Even so, the idea needed a little sinking in, a little thought.

  “Nathan’s…great,” Eric said.

  Andrew grinned, overflowing with a father’s pride. “I know.”

  “So…you love him, then?” Eric hesitated, realizing how stupid he sounded. “I mean, I know you love him, but…you have Andy, too, and I—”

  His voice faded and died before Andrew’s withering glare.

  “You’re a freaking idiot,” Andrew said flatly, his heavy brows lowering into a shelf over his eyes, like Frankenstein. “Let’s just get that out of the way right now.”

  “Yeah, let’s,” Eric said, feeling sheepish.

  “What you’re asking,” Andrew snapped, “is whether, if a speeding bus was racing toward Nathan and Andy and I only had time to save one, whether I’d shove Nathan under the bus to save Andy. Right? Well, the answer is no.”

  “I didn’t mean—” Eric began, although this was, in fact, pretty close to what he’d been wondering.

  “I love both my boys,” Andrew told him. “I’d kill for either of them, and I’d die for either of them. We clear?”

  “Yeah, I’m thinking we’re clear.”

  A stony silence followed. Andrew glowered, subliminally daring Eric to ask any more dumb questions, and then, when he seemed satisfied that he wouldn’t, he softened.

  “If you’re worried about whether you can love an adopted kid as much as your own kid, you can.” Andrew swung the basket and then looked down at it with surprise, as though he’d forgotten it was in his hand. Muttering, he put it on the nearest table and refocused on Eric. “And if you think it takes longer than a day of living with a kid—and knowing he’s yours and he needs you—before you fall in love with him, then you don’t know anything about kids.”

  That made sense, Eric thought. A lot of sense. There’d been plenty of times when he’d spent a few hours with Andy and Nathan and felt a hard pang of loss when it was time to hand them back over to Andrew and Viveca. Kids grew on you. It was hard not to love them.

  “Thanks,” Eric said. “I’m going to think about it.”

  “Good idea.” Andrew, looking relieved, turned to go, but then he glanced back over his shoulder. “And I don’t need to talk you into not letting Isabella get away, do I? ’Cause if I do, I’m gonna have to kick your ass for you.”

  Let Isabella go? When he’d only just realized her rightful place in his life and had a small taste of the joy they could have together? No way. Having Isabella and having kids with her were two separate and—as far as he was concerned—unrelated issues. “Oh, don’t worry.”

  For the first time in hours, Eric felt light again, as though he had a plan and knew the path to choose. He grinned because one thing hadn’t changed and would never change: he loved Isabella and meant to marry her. Come hell or high water.

  “I have no intentions of letting Izzy go, kids or no kids.”

  Chapter 19

  Isabella spent a good portion of the afternoon sitting on the cottage’s front porch, swaying on the white wicker swing with Zeus in her lap and wallowing in her misery. There’d been no sign of Eric and she didn’t really expect a sign anytime soon.

  How she’d get back to Cincinnati, she had no idea. Originally they’d planned to drive home in Eric’s SUV with the thought that he’d drop her off and continue on to Columbus, but Eric’s SUV was still in Florida, waiting to be sent home, and so many things had changed since they left it wasn’t even funny.

  So now she was stranded two hours from home, not that she cared about the setting. Right now she’d be nursing her broken heart no matter where she was.

  And speaking of locations, she didn’t see how she could leave for South Africa. The bloom had begun to slip off that rose a couple of days ago when her father had said she’d just be packing her problems in the suitcase with her toothbrush if she moved to another country. He’d been right. Getting on a plane and flying thousands of miles away from Eric, whether he hated her now or not, wouldn’t solve anything and, besides that, seemed impossible.

  On the other hand, she’d always dreamt of visiting South Africa, if not teaching there. If Eric did hate her, a change of continent and new job would surely keep her busy and do her a world of good. Even if it would hurt to leave him.

  She scratched Zeus’s ears and wished she could sleep as peacefully as he could and block out the things that had happened this afternoon. If only a dog biscuit or two could cheer her up.

  The wretched look on Eric’s face when she’d told him about the secret parts of her life was something that would haunt her until her dying day and possibly follow her into heaven. If she’d ever doubted that he loved her, she didn’t now, not after seeing his despair.

  She’d hurt him. Truly, deeply hurt him, and it didn’t matter one iota that she’d never meant to. The tight pain in her chest now was an expected but unwelcome side effect of injuring Eric. If he hurt, she hurt. Simple as that.

  Would he forgive her for the lie? She thought he probably would. He was a fair man and he’d never been anything but understanding with her. The bigger question was whether he could get over the hurt of knowing she’d had a child with someone else. That she’d been young and foolish at the time was a mitigating factor, if a small one.

  Had she destroyed his desire to marry her? That was the biggest question, and if so she could hardly blame him. Eric loved children and always had. And he came from a family to whom lineage and carrying on the family name was immensely important. Of course he would want his own blood children. She couldn’t expect him to give up that dream just because she’d had years to adjust to the idea that she could never bear another child. It wouldn’t be fair for her to ask it of him.

  Her heart contracted and she stared up at the clear blue sky, blinking back her tears and letting the light breeze cool her face. She’d cried enough today.

  If only she could get home, though.

  Zeus groaned in his sleep and his little back paws scratched at the a
ir. Silly dog. And she was a silly owner, wasn’t she? Dressing him in his little kerchiefs and T-shirts, brushing his fur and taking him to the groomer’s, making sure he had Fluffles. She knew what she was doing; any five-year-old could see that she was babying the dog because he was the only baby she’d have.

  Another great wave of self-pity washed over her but a diversion arrived in the form of Viveca’s singsong voice coming down the path from the main house. Zeus’s ears pricked and he raised his head to look around with interest.

  “Go to sleep, baby. It’s past time for your nap. Go to sleep…go to sleep.”

  Isabella saw Viveca emerge from the trees with Andy slung across her chest in a blue paisley sling. Andy, looking bleary-eyed and heavy lidded, rested his cheek against his mother’s breasts, his thumb in his mouth. He did not look like he was about to go to sleep, although it was not for lack of trying on Viveca’s part. She swayed as she walked, rubbing his curly little head and patting his bottom as she went. When her gaze connected with Isabella’s, she rolled her eyes and gave her a tired smile.

  “Andrew’s little son here,” she said in a soothing, high-pitched baby voice, “seems to think he doesn’t need a nap today.”

  Isabella had to smile. “Isn’t he your son, too?”

  “Not when he’s not behaving, no.”

  Zeus hopped down from Isabella’s lap and trotted over to Viveca as soon as she climbed the steps to the porch. He stared adoringly up at her, tail wagging in anticipation of the belly rub he no doubt felt was his due.

  “Hi, doggy,” Viveca sang. “Hi, doggy.”

  Andy roused himself enough to take his thumb out of his mouth, lean down to better see Zeus, and point. “Doggy.”

  What a beautiful child, Isabella thought. What she wouldn’t give to have her baby—Eric’s baby—pressed to her breasts like that.

  “Doggy,” Viveca said again.

  Isabella’s throat constricted and some of her turmoil must have shown on her face because Viveca settled on the wicker chair nearest the swing, arranged Andy so that his legs dangled on either side of her hips, and studied her with concern.

  “What’s wrong? You and Eric have been acting funny all day.”

  Isabella thought hard. She and Viveca didn’t know each other all that well although they’d always been very friendly, and she really wasn’t one to pour her heart out. Even so, now that her relationship with Eric had imploded, the reason why would get around the family soon enough.

  “I can’t have children,” she said, her voice hoarse. “I told Eric earlier.”

  “Oh.” Viveca’s face fell. “Oh. I’m really sorry.”

  Isabella managed a quick smile. “Thanks.”

  Andy pointed at Zeus again and the dog yapped a hello.

  Andy grinned. “Doggy.”

  “You go to sleep,” Viveca said, patting Andy’s back, and Andy obligingly put his head back down. Viveca looked to Isabella, her expression now matter-of-fact. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Isabella tried to be polite, but it was pretty hard at the moment when Viveca had everything Isabella wanted—the husband, the kids, another baby on the way—and Isabella had only a dog that, more often than not, had muddy paws, fleas and gas.

  “I would Viveca, but it’s hard to have an in-depth discussion about my infertility with a pregnant woman who’s got a baby strapped to her chest. No offense, though.”

  “Oh.” Viveca’s cheeks flamed, making Isabella feel bad for being abrupt. “Yeah. Right. Sorry. I’ll just…I think I’ll just go back to the house.”

  She got up and headed for the steps. After an initial moment of relief, Isabella regretted her hastiness because now was a time when she needed every friend around her that she could get.

  “Wait,” she said, and Viveca paused at the edge of the porch. “I—sorry. It’s just that…I’m really scared at the moment. I don’t know what’s going to happen. With Eric.”

  Viveca’s expression clouded over with confusion. She absently patted Andy’s butt, her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  Isabella’s irritation swelled. Why did this need explaining? Wasn’t it obvious? “I mean, my relationship with Eric is pretty much over. I don’t even know if we can salvage the friendship at this point.”

  “Salvage the friendship?”

  Viveca did something entirely unexpected. She laughed. Threw back her head and roared as if she was at an Eddie Murphy-Chris Rock concert. Poor Andy, looking perplexed, took his thumb out of his mouth and craned his neck to stare at his mother as though he wanted her to explain what the heck was so funny.

  “What the heck is so funny?” Isabella demanded.

  “Friends?” Viveca spluttered when she’d caught her breath. “Honey, Eric is in love with you. I knew it the first time I saw you together. If you think that man is going to want to be just friends with you, then you are obviously insane.” She paused and then laughed again, muttering. “Friends. Right.”

  “Did you not hear me?” Isabella couldn’t keep the annoyance out of her voice. “I can’t have children, and Eric’s going to want someone who can—”

  “Honey, if Eric just wanted a uterus, he could go out and hire one. He’s got the money.”

  This stopped Isabella cold. Eric had the money to do whatever he wanted. That was true enough. But he couldn’t buy a woman who loved him the way Isabella did. He could search the world high and low but he’d never find another woman who’d love him better.

  And yet…could she ask it of him? Ask a man to give up his chance to have a biological child? Wasn’t that too much of a sacrifice, even for the woman you loved?

  Helplessly stuck and confused, all Isabella could do was stare at Andy—precious boy—and wish he was hers. Suddenly the thing she needed more than she needed anything else was to hold a baby. Even if it wasn’t hers.

  “Can I borrow Andy?” she asked.

  Viveca beamed at her. “Absolutely. See if you can get him to sleep for me.”

  Viveca freed Andy from the sling contraption and handed him over to Isabella, who moved to the wicker rocker and accepted his warm heavy baby weight gratefully onto her lap. She sat him facing her, his legs stretched along her hips, and he gave her a weary smile around his tiny thumb, which was now red and wrinkled from use.

  Viveca fished a tissue out of the pocket of her dress and dabbled at her wet eyes. “Well. I’ll just leave you two for a minute, okay?” She looked down at Zeus, who was patiently sitting at her feet, and tapped her thigh several times. “Zeus? You want some bacon? Let’s go get some bacon. Come on. Come on.”

  Zeus jumped up and yapped several times before turning and racing up the path toward the house, leading the way. Isabella watched them disappear through the trees and braced herself, ratcheting up her courage before she looked back at Andy’s droopy blue eyes.

  It had been a long time since she’d held a baby. Years, unless she was much mistaken. She’d avoided them like fire ants because the heartache that came from just a passing whiff of, say, baby powder, was enough to reduce her to tears of longing every time.

  Older children were somehow different and that was how she’d managed to teach kindergarten all these years. They were little people with whom she could converse and negotiate. Babies were a separate species who brought misery with them whenever they crossed her path.

  Andy, no doubt tired of being ignored, popped his thumb out of his mouth again and, with a murmur of what sounded like concern, patted her cheeks with his hands, leaving a wet streak on one side.

  That did it. All the emotion that had been clogging Isabella’s throat bubbled over into a weird sobbing-laugh noise.

  Andy cocked his head, studying her.

  “You’re a precious boy,” she said, laughing and crying, wiping her eyes and trying not to scare him. “You’re a precious boy.”

  This seemed to reassure him. He grinned and cooed, showing dimples, miles of pink gums and those four white teeth. Undone, Isabella kissed hi
s fat warm cheeks over and over, wanting to bite them, wanting to take this wonderful child home with her and keep him there.

  His sweet skin smelled of milk and apricots and his sun-warmed curls were fragrant with baby shampoo. Someone had taken off his fancy white baptism shoes and his perfect little toes flexed and curled with delight.

  Seeing this, she laughed again and loved him. Wanted him.

  “You need a nap, baby boy.” She settled him against her chest and he snuggled happily, at home with any available bosom. That weathered thumb went right back in his mouth and he sucked and snuffled, moving his head back and forth until he located just the right spot.

  Once he settled down, she smoothed his curls, rubbed his temple and nape and rocked him, the melody of some long-forgotten lullaby on her lips. Soon his breathing evened out, telling her he’d finally stopped fighting the sleep he needed.

  With the sun on her face, the breeze in her hair and the wonderful weight of a baby in her arms, even if it wasn’t her baby, she leaned her head against the back of the rocker, cried, let go and forgave herself for the mistakes she’d made. She’d done the best she could at the time, and that was all she could ask of herself. She couldn’t have a baby but she was still a good person, a real woman, and that was enough. With her sorrow, guilt and shame slowly drifting away like the clouds overhead, Isabella slept.

  When she woke, the sunlight had shifted and her feeling of rejuvenation went far beyond anything that a short nap should be able to provide. She felt like a new person with no more than three minutes of life under her belt. She had no idea how much time had passed, whether it was an hour or two, but everything about her existence seemed to have shifted.

  Andy was in the same position and nothing had changed as far as she knew, but Eric was with her. She felt his presence down to the marrow of her bones even if she couldn’t see him. And then she turned her head to the right and there he was, almost to the porch steps, frozen and rapt, watching her and the baby with such a look of loss and longing on his face that she thought she might die from it.