Honorable Intentions

by Catherine Mann

  “Don’t worry about me. Just focus on Max,” the older woman said, a helluva lot more subtle in exerting pressure than he’d been.

  Resignation mingled with frustration on Gabrielle’s weary but so damn gorgeous face. “But Hank, aren’t you staying in one of those germy hotels?”

  “Leonie can have my room.” He stifled a wince since he’d actually already checked out of the place. But he could find somewhere in this overbooked town. There were always rooms set aside for someone with the right amount of money. He pulled out his phone. “Trust me. I can handle this. By the time you feed the kid and pack your suitcase, I’ll have us in a house and your friend Leonie will be taken care of, as well.”

  Okay, so technically, he already had the house, but he didn’t want to push his luck by letting her know he’d been working toward this victory since last night.

  She eyed him suspiciously, hitching the diaper bag up higher on her shoulder. “Did you have someone sabotage the plumbing?”

  “I would have if I’d needed to.” Might as well give her the truth on that. “But fate has been kind to me today.”

  Still, her eyebrows stayed pinched together. She wasn’t buying the ease of his plan for a second.

  “Fine. You’ve got me.” He whipped off his aviators and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, I have a place to stay here. I arranged it last night, and yes, I was hoping even then that you would stay there for the duration of Max’s recovery. The plumbing issue just makes the decision a no-brainer for you.”

  Gabrielle shoved away from the gate, fished out her keys and mumbled, “It’s not my brain I’m worried about.”

  Five

  Back in Hank’s Escalade an hour later, Gabrielle wished everything in her life was as easy to decide as where to spend tonight. With her son’s surgery scheduled for tomorrow, staying with Hank for the evening truly was a no-brainer.

  After speaking to Leonie, she had gone upstairs to pack her things and nurse her son while Hank carried her bags and baby gear to the car. Thank goodness the damage to her place had been minimal. Clean up would be easy and her most treasured items were safe—her scrapbooks and photos.

  Hank had made a couple of trips up and down the stairs lugging her stuff. Packing for tonight at Hank’s place, plus the two-day hospital stay hadn’t been easy. Where would she go afterward? What would she do? She would face that when the time came. For now, she could only think of getting through tomorrow’s operation. Just thinking of her son going into the operating room had her stomach in turmoil, fears and tears bubbling to the surface.

  That had to be the reason her feelings were so out of control around Hank. Once she had the procedure finished and her son healthy, her mind would clear. She would be rational again.

  Hank drove through the Garden District and she settled deeper into her seat, letting the beauty soothe her ragged nerves. She hadn’t bothered to ask Hank where they were going. Undoubtedly, they would have to drive for a while to reach anything available. She refused to think of her soaked apartment and the damage. She would sort that out with insurance later.

  Passing historic home after home, they drove farther away from her apartment, slower and slower as if Hank sensed the peace she drew from soaking in their surroundings. Since Max was born, there hadn’t been time to indulge in sightseeing tours. Even when she took her son for walks in his stroller, she was usually dead on her feet.

  Like now, and it wasn’t even suppertime yet.

  Maybe she should ask Hank to swing into a drive-through on the way since she’d forgotten to eat breakfast. She looked over at him just as he turned the steering wheel, except he was pulling into a driveway not onto a road.

  “Hank?” She sat up straighter.

  A narrow, freshly paved driveway stretched beside a pink stucco house with metal balconies—Italianate style—all restored to former magnificence. The yard, while not huge, was a large plot in an area where land was at a premium. The lawn and garden did justice to its Garden District address. She could only imagine what the place would be like in the summer.

  When she’d dreamed of coming to New Orleans for graduate school, this was just the sort of place she’d envisioned visiting, maybe having lunch or treating herself to a night at a bed-and-breakfast. As a military brat with an American dad and German mom, she’d grown up all around the world, nowhere ever feeling like home.

  New Orleans oozed with history, roots.

  “Is this a bed-and-breakfast?” She rested a hand on Hank’s arm, then pulled back quickly. “What a great idea, more comfortable, like a home. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.”

  “It’s not a bed-and-breakfast.” He steered around back to an empty parking area with a three-car garage. “It’s a vacation rental home.”

  “I don’t remember seeing a Realtor’s sign.” She looked over her shoulder but the street had disappeared from sight as he stopped at the back door.

  “The owners aren’t the type to advertise.” He shut off the SUV. “They work through a Realtor who sets up rentals for people who need space and privacy. Politicians. Actors.”

  “This is, uh—” She settled on “—thoughtful and a little overwhelming.”

  “Don’t sweat this.” He hooked an elbow on the steering wheel. “Really. This is nothing for me. It was easy, and I won’t even notice the expense. So don’t give me credit I don’t deserve.”

  She looked at his casual wear and his old-school aviators. She’d allowed herself to be distracted from who he was. “I forget about your family sometimes.”

  “Thank you.” Smiling, he swept off his shades. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “It is. But this—” she gestured to the yard, the no-kidding mansion— “is really too much.”

  “It’s already done, Gabrielle. I have a week and a half left on my leave time, and I’ve already arranged to spend it in this house.” He spread his arms, sunglasses dangling from his fingers. “So either you walk inside with me, or I’m stuck staying in there all alone for a week and a half, which sounds like an awful waste.”

  Shaking her head, she reached for the door. “Why do you keep making it sound like I’m doing you a favor when it’s obviously the other way around?”

  He leaned back and put his shades on again, pulling away in more ways than just physically. “Call it survivor’s guilt. It’s a real bitch.”

  What a sad situation they were both in here, trying to do right by Max and Kevin even when all these reminders of the past had to be flaying him raw inside, too. She blinked away tears and squeezed his hand.

  “That it is,” she whispered. “That it is.”

  * * *

  An hour later, Gabrielle set Max’s car seat on the floor and sagged back against the door to her temporary bedroom. Although the word bedroom seemed sorely inadequate to describe the luxurious quarters. Not a modern suite, per se, as the integrity of the old home had been maintained.

  Grateful for some space to regroup before she faced Hank again, she carried Max’s car seat deeper into the room and placed it at the foot of the sleigh bed. The large queen-size frame filled the space between two floor-to-ceiling windows. Slate-blue linens with splashes of yellow in the bolsters called to her to sneak a nap.

  A fat yellow love seat was tucked in a nook. Persian rugs stretched over refinished hardwood floors that still bore the marks of past use. The beauty of the place was in how the imperfections were maintained so the home looked restored rather than gutted.

  From what she’d seen, the rest of the house sported more of a skeleton set-up of basic furniture, the dining room with an antique table and sideboard with a gilded mirror on the wall. The living room was accented with a sofa and a couple of wingback chairs, along with sconces on the carved mantel. Mammoth windows, with airy curtains that pooled on the floor, added a whisper of color here and there to the otherwise whitewashed walls.

  But beyond that, it was clear Hank had ordered additional items just for this visit.r />
  A connecting door was open to the nursery, completely decked out in toile and stripes—black, white and gray—the contrasting colors perfect for a baby, yet in keeping with the historic home.

  Beyond just the decor, the practical angles had been addressed, as well—diapers, sleepers, baby blankets and a monitor.

  A mahogany end table—by the love seat—was actually a mini-fridge with a crystal bowl of fruit on top. She opened the small refrigerator to find—of course—bottled water, juice and milk.

  When they’d hung out before, with Kevin, she’d known Hank came from a wealthy family, but he never flaunted his money. And he’d certainly never mentioned his savvy investment in a computer games venture. So this lavish display caught her off guard.

  It also touched her.

  Hank had given her time to unpack and then they planned to meet for supper. He’d ordered out and said they could dine on the side lanai. She had to admit, she welcomed the chance to soak up every wonderful detail of this dream home in her dream city.

  With all Hank’s help, she actually had time to take a more leisurely bath than the rushed shower she’d snagged in the morning.

  She peeked into the bathroom and nearly groaned in ecstasy. Her gaze zipped right past the polished pewter-and-crystal fixtures to the deep claw-footed tub that lent an air of history, while spa jets inside the tub shouted pure modern decadence. She whipped her shirt over her head and ditched the rest of her clothes faster than she could think Jacuzzi—

  Her cell phone chimed from her bedroom.

  “Damn it,” she whispered, then all but kicked herself. Before long, Max would be parroting everything she said.

  She grabbed a thick, fluffy towel and wrapped it around herself on the run back into her bedroom. She couldn’t afford to ignore ringing. What if it was a message from the hospital or Max’s doctor?

  Struggling to hold the towel in place, she fished through the diaper bag—like finding something in a deep black hole. Finally, her fingers closed around her cell and she yanked it free.

  Her mother’s number flashed on the caller ID. Relief warred with frustration. Already, she could imagine all the ways her mom would push her to come home.

  She mentally switched to German and answered, “Hello, Mama.”

  “Why aren’t you answering your phone at your apartment?” her mother asked, rapid fire and frantic. “I was worried sick some criminal had come in off the street and killed you both.”

  “I can assure you we’re alive and not being held hostage by someone looking to hock my seventeen-inch television and costume jewelry.”

  Although she did have her diamond engagement ring, tucked away in a box and waiting for Max to give to his future wife one day.

  “Well, if you’re not being held at knifepoint and you’re not dead in a ditch, then you were out all day. Too long for you to be out with a baby. Did your old car break down? You know your father could help you with things like that if you lived here.”

  She looked around the room and thought of how convoluted it would be to tell her mother everything going on with Hank right now. Especially when she wasn’t even sure what was going on with Hank.

  “Sorry, Mom, I just couldn’t get to the other phone before you hung up.”

  “Tttt, ttt,” her mother reprimanded. “You never were good at lying.”

  “Sheesh, I’m not ten anymore.” She sank to the edge of the bed. “A water pipe broke in my apartment. My place is unlivable at the moment, so I had to find somewhere else to stay.”

  “My God, now of all times? Where are you?” Her mom still felt the need to keep tabs on all five of her kids, as if that would give her more control over a world where her husband got called away to secret locales at the drop of a hat.

  In a way, Gabrielle got it. She wanted control over her own life now, too.

  “I’m staying at a bed-and-breakfast.”

  Hopefully this time her lie played better to her mom’s radar ears.

  “A bed-and-breakfast? That sounds nice, almost as good as being home.” Her mother’s voice edged down a notch. “I just wanted to check on you. You promise you will call after Max’s surgery.”

  “Of course I will.” As a mother herself, she could well imagine how freaked out her mom must be right now. If only she could just be less…pushy about her own fears. It shouldn’t take an entire ocean to create boundaries wide enough. “I know you’re worried, too.”

  “I would be there, if you let me.”

  “Thank you, and I appreciate that. Honestly. But you already came out when Max was born.” And when Kevin had died. Although she didn’t want to talk about death, especially not tonight. “Thank you, Mama, but really, I’m managing okay.”

  Thanks to Hank.

  Guilt pinched again over not being completely truthful with her mother. Her mom was an amazing woman, other than that “dead in a ditch” syndrome. She was a military wife, mom of five, two of which were still in junior high. She worked as a math teacher, swapping schools every time they moved. Her mother was so darn near close to perfect it was overwhelming sometimes.

  Like now.

  Gabrielle needed the space to be less than strong, less than perfect. She needed to just be upset for her child without worrying about making her mother even more smothering.

  “Thank you for calling, Mama. But I should get some supper.” And put on some clothes.

  “Hold on just a few more minutes. Your father wants to say hello, too.”

  Gabrielle mentally switched to English to speak with her dad. She pictured her wiry, energetic mom zipping up all three flights of stairs in their fourplex searching. Gabrielle could hear her mom’s repeated calls of “Gary!”

  As a kid, she’d had nightmares about her burly, invincible dad dying in a war. Some of her mom’s “dead in a ditch” syndrome had rubbed off. She’d grown up torn between a deep respect for those who wore a uniform and a desperate wish for her father to be someone different from who he was.

  Even her perfect mother cried when she thought no one was looking.

  Gabrielle gripped the phone tighter, questioning for the first time if she’d stayed in New Orleans for practical reasons—or because she hadn’t wanted her family to see her grief.

  “Gabby girl.” Her dad’s rumbly voice traveled through the connection, strong and familiar.

  “Hello,” she said to her father just as a tap sounded on the door. “Wait!”

  She called out fast, but too late. The door was already opening after the hello.

  “Ohmigod.” She shot to her feet, towel gripped tight in her fist.

  Hank stood in the open doorway, eyes wide. His feet were planted as if he was rooted to the floor in shock. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it and tried again. She held up a hand to silence him and damn near dropped her towel. She let the phone fall instead and grabbed fast to keep the towel in place.

  Carefully, she knelt to pick up her cell without taking her gaze off Hank for a second. “Dad, love you tons, but I gotta go. Max needs me. I promise to call you and Mom tomorrow as soon as Max is out of surgery. Bye now.”

  She thumbed End Call, pitched the cell onto the bed and pressed both hands against the towel. Her body flamed to life at the stroke of Hank’s eyes and yes, even more than that. Heat stirred because she saw him. More than just the breadth of his shoulders filling the doorway or his slim hips in khakis, she took in his face and, holy Gerard Butler, he was handsome in that rugged way made all the hotter by the keen intelligence in his blue eyes.

  “Hank?” She cleared her throat and her thoughts. “Did you need something?”

  Hank’s slow, lazy blink spoke of hot sweaty sex. “Is there anything you need that hasn’t been provided here?”

  “Thank you, but we’re fine. Everything’s beyond perfect. I’ll be down as soon as I get dressed.” Although no way could she bathe now, not knowing that he would be thinking of her in the tub and she would be in that water thinking of how his eyes stroked h
er with unmistakable appreciation.

  After months of pregnancy and postpartum body adjustment, she couldn’t deny that his unhidden desire for her felt good. Who wouldn’t be flattered, right? She was simply flattered.

  Yet, the second he closed that door after him, her knees folded.

  * * *

  Hank sat on the lanai with a glass of sweet tea and listened to the distant sounds of a city that stayed awake late. Very late.

  Draining his glass, he rocked the chair back and forth on two legs. He would have preferred a beer after the mind-blowing image of Gabrielle in nothing but a towel. Or maybe a few beers until he could pass out asleep rather than awake with the vision of her strolling through his mind every other second.

  But he had to stay clearheaded and available in case she needed his help.

  A dim light still shone from her room even well past—he checked his watch—one in the morning. She had to be dead on her feet after getting up with a kid all night, then the early start today. Not to mention the stress.

  He’d already put into place a couple more plans for easing her life during Max’s recovery. And damn it, there would be a recovery because Hank refused to accept any other outcome for tomorrow’s surgery.

  His chair legs slammed down on the porch.

  He needed to check on her. Now. Find out why she couldn’t sleep and see if there was something he could do. She’d been far too quiet at supper, eating in silence then excusing herself to go to bed. Except she still wasn’t sleeping. Unless she left the lights on, in which case he would slip back out and grab some sleep himself.

  These days he only managed about four hours of shut-eye anyway. That had started right about the time Kevin died. Hank was just wired. It would settle out as soon as he gained some closure by helping Kevin’s kid.

  A mocking voice in the back of his head reminded him he was here to see Gabrielle as much as the boy.

  Hank strode quietly through the house. A good house. His stepbrother had done his standard stellar job on the place. A bit more furniture and it would be a worthy addition to the historic home tour circuit. He couldn’t help but notice Gabrielle’s appreciation. Felt good to get something right for her.