Honorable Intentions

by Catherine Mann

  Her son was being held by…Leonie Lanier?

  Max’s babysitter—their neighbor from above the antiques shop—was here? And there were four empty bottles sitting beside the rocker, so she must have been feeding him the expressed milk Gabrielle had frozen and stored before the surgery. Gabrielle could hardly wrap her mind around what must have happened in the night.

  She could only embrace the relief that her son was okay. She reached for Max. “Leonie, what are you doing here?”

  Standing, her neighbor passed over the baby with a smile. “Helping you get a good night’s sleep.”

  Gabrielle pressed five frantic kisses on her son’s forehead. Her weak knees folded, and she sank into the rocking chair. Laying Max on her legs, she unsnapped his onesie and checked his three tiny incisions from the laparoscopic surgery. Her son squirmed in her arms, wide awake and cooing his “good morning” up at her as he pedaled his feet against her stomach.

  Everything appeared to be fine, but he was her responsibility. Her son.

  The trembling inside her wouldn’t stop, months of stress and worry compounding. “That’s very generous of you, but I wish someone would have told me. How long have you been here?”

  Where was Hank? He had to know because only he could have let Leonie into the house. She hitched Max up to her shoulder.

  “I arrived around ten last night. That cute Major Renshaw and I swapped off taking care of Max through the night. I’ve offered a million times, and you were always so stubborn about doing everything yourself.” She crossed her legs, one tennis-shoe-clad foot swinging. She wore a track suit and looked surprisingly fresh for someone who’d cared for a baby all night. “Your friend and I decided to surprise you.”

  “Well, you certainly succeeded.” Not in a good way. But she would save that frustration for later when she confronted Hank. That he would have gone behind her back… He’d even closed the door while she slept… .

  No wonder she’d been smelling his leather jacket. He’d been in her room.

  Leonie sat on the daybed tucked against the window. “I really can’t take credit for any generosity. Your friend knew the flooding put me out of my home, too—and I’ve lost my part-time job as long as the shop is closed. He offered me this position until I’m back to work, which is perfect since when I go back you’ll be able to go back, too.”

  Position? “Hank’s paying you?”

  “Uh-huh. I already know Max’s routine and I adore the little guy— Are you upset?”

  “Surprised,” she said tightly, patting Max on his back as he squirmed.

  “Oh, my goodness, if I’ve overstepped, sweetie, let me know.” Leonie’s hazel eyes filled with concern. “It seemed like the perfect solution to all our problems and a great surprise for you.”

  “Of course it is. You haven’t done anything wrong.” Well, other than not speaking to her first, but chewing out Leonie wouldn’t accomplish anything. Chewing out Hank, on the other hand, would make Gabrielle feel much better… . “Thank you for your help. You’re one of the few people I feel comfortable with watching Max.”

  Max wriggled, his fingers getting tangled in her hair as he started to whimper with his “feed me” sounds.

  “You do look better, more rested.” She cupped Gabrielle’s cheek. “That’s a very good thing, even if you are still too tense. You’re no help to Max if you wear yourself down until you’re sick.”

  “You had the night shift, so how about I take him for a while? I need to nurse him.” She worked free the front buttons on her dress and her son latched on, tiny fists flailing, then finally settling as he calmed. She stroked his impossibly soft cheek with one knuckle, love and protectiveness flooding fiercely through her. “Actually, I need to hold him. I’m sure it will take a while for the worry to fade.”

  “You’re a mama now.” Leonie winked on her way out the door. “You’re never going to stop worrying.”

  Gabrielle sagged back in the chair, rocking faster, frustrated with herself as much as with Hank. Sometime last night she’d allowed herself to get complacent, to take all the help Hank had offered. She’d lowered her boundaries, and while his intentions may have been good, he’d steamrolled right over her. Hiring a sitter for her son without consulting her? Taking her son so she wouldn’t hear him wake up?

  She’d been delusional thinking she could just jump into an affair with Hank. Her life wasn’t that simple. She had concerns and responsibilities beyond what she could have imagined a year ago.

  Hank may not have changed, but she had.

  * * *

  Hank leaned back in the chair on the lanai, thumbs flying over the game on his phone. The late-morning sun beat down on his head. The clean-up crew next door clanked trash cans. Hopefully, they weren’t waking Gabrielle. As hard as she’d been working the past months, he couldn’t imagine how much sleep would be enough.

  If she didn’t catch up on her rest soon, she would snap. He’d heard the same advice in those end-of-deployment briefings they all got at the end of each tour. Decompress. Take time off. Play.

  His thumbs flew faster over the video game, and he wondered why the kink in his neck didn’t ease even when he hit the eighth level. If anything, the longer he spent away from base, the itchier he got. Which likely had more to do with the woman sleeping upstairs than any need to decompress.

  The French doors swung open sharply. His chair slammed to the ground. He tossed his phone on the table just as Gabrielle charged through.

  God, she was gorgeous and tousled.

  And mad?

  “A nanny?” She stopped short in front of him. “You hired a nanny for my son?”

  Standing, he clasped her shoulders and resisted the urge to just kiss away her bad mood. “I thought you could use some sleep. I was being thoughtful, being a good… friend.”

  “Well, I’m being a mother, doing what a mother does. I’m taking care of my child.” She swept a hand around her, gesturing to the historic home and gardens. “The house, the furniture, that’s generous, thoughtful beyond belief, and I appreciate that you’re trying to help. But you do not have the right to choose childcare for my son.”

  What the hell? He’d thought she would be turning back flips over a good night’s sleep. “Is Max okay? Did something happen?”

  “He’s fine,” she said tightly.

  “Leonie Lanier is your regular babysitter. You’ve already chosen and approved her. I tossed some extra money at the situation.” It’s not like he would even miss the cash. “Consider it a baby gift since I wasn’t here when he was born. So what’s the problem?”

  She ground her teeth, her fists clenched at her side. “You didn’t ask me first.”

  “You’re pissed at me?” He scrubbed a hand behind his neck.

  “Yes, I’m angry.”

  His gift was definitely backfiring here. “Because I wanted to help you?”

  “Because you made arrangements for my son—” she jabbed him in the chest with each phrase “—an infant, who just got out of the hospital, without discussing it with me first. You’re overstepping. I’m perfectly capable—”

  “—of taking care of yourself.” He grabbed her wrist. “Yeah, I know. You’ve told me. Repeatedly.”

  She jerked her hand free and folded her arms under her breasts. “I meant I’m capable of asking for what I need.”

  “Doesn’t appear that way to me,” he snapped back, finding out he was pissed, too. He was working his ass off to help her, and she was giving him hell.

  “Just because I didn’t go running home to my family doesn’t mean I can’t accept help—the right kind of help.” She shook her head. “And you’re one to talk about reaching out to others, living your solitary life, dodging your family’s calls. Why is it okay for you to be the only one who needs independence?”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, let’s dial this down a notch.” When did this become about him? The last thing he wanted was anyone poking around inside his head or his life. “I’m trying to hel
p. So I screwed up and didn’t get it right. I’m trying.”

  She looked skyward, dragging in ragged breaths for thirty seconds before leveling a steely, strong gaze at him. “You may say it’s not about Kevin, but I’m not so sure. Even you said on the first day back you’re trying to be a stand-in dad. I get that. But it’s not that simple.” She held up a hand, backing away. “I’ve changed since last year. My life and my priorities have changed. Last night you were kissing the old Gabrielle. You don’t even know the woman I am now.”

  Spinning away, she ran back into the house, leaving him floored.

  And crazy turned on by the vibrant woman he was finding it tougher and tougher to remember had ever been engaged to his best friend.

  * * *

  How had she gone from totally turned on by Hank to totally furious with him in such a short time?

  Gabrielle closed her computer for the workday and flopped back in the chair. Concentrating on business web designs—on anything—had been difficult with this morning’s argument churning through her mind. She’d already been riding an emotional roller coaster since she lost Kevin, but now that Hank had come to town, it felt like she was stuck in a frightening loop without time for her stomach to settle.

  Guilt pinched her over how she’d lost her temper with Hank. She still felt he’d gone too far in arranging care for her son without consulting her, but she wished she’d been calmer in relaying her point. He’d just hit such a sore spot with her, given the way her mom had micro-managed her life for so many years. She’d had to move an entire ocean away just to go to college without her mother checking in with her professors.

  Although she had to confess, having the extra help from Leonie had been a real godsend today. She’d only asked Leonie to watch over Max while he slept, but just knowing she didn’t need to keep her ears on alert, and having Leonie bring Max to her when he woke, had given Gabrielle longer stretches to catch up on business and school. She was actually—finally—back on schedule again.

  Hank had steered clear of her all day, as well. Not that she could blame him. She’d seen his SUV leave shortly after their argument. Of course, he didn’t have to check in with her. Still, she wondered where he’d gone. Had she actually scared him off for good? She couldn’t fathom that he would just leave without saying goodbye, not matter how loudly she yelled. He wasn’t that kind of man.

  Which led her to the question, what kind of man was Hank Renshaw, Jr.? Besides her former fiancé’s best friend. Beyond the pedigree. Beneath the uniform.

  He was a good man who was trying hard to help her and her son when they weren’t his responsibility. He was using his time off after a war deployment to hold her hand during her son’s surgery. He was looking for ways to make her life easier, and sure, he’d bypassed her on the decision making, but she shouldn’t expect him to understand parenting when he’d never been a parent.

  Now that her temper had cooled, she had to admit she owed him an apology.

  She shoved her chair away from the makeshift office she’d set up in her bedroom and crossed to the open nursery door. “Leonie?”

  Her older neighbor—a treasured friend—looked up from her tabloid magazine as she sat curled in the daybed built into the window seat. “Yes, dear?” She set aside her gossip rag and a plate with a half-eaten sandwich. “What can I do for you and please don’t say ‘nothing.’ I’ve barely done anything all day, and I’m going to feel guilty taking that generous paycheck your hot major is offering me.”

  “How generous?” she asked, wondering how in the world she would repay him.

  “Sinfully generous, dear, and he was a total doll about the offer. Said he was doing his bit to help the economy.”

  Gabrielle rolled her eyes, turning away and checking on her son asleep in his bed. Seeing him sleep so peacefully, so much more content as he kept his food down better these days, warmed her soul. She had so much to be thankful for and instead she’d been stomping her foot and pitching a fit.

  Leonie cleared her throat. “He drove back in about an hour ago.”

  Gabrielle didn’t bother asking who Leonie meant. “I didn’t see that.”

  “Ah, so you were watching out the window.” She padded softly across the room and stopped by Gabrielle, covering her hand on the crib railing. “Go enjoy the rest of the evening. I have this. Really. I slept most of the day away and what little time I was awake, I was thoroughly enjoying this amazing home.”

  “Thank you, Leonie.”

  “For what?”

  “For loving my son.”

  The older woman patted Gabrielle’s cheek. “I love you, too. Now go play. Enjoy being young.”

  “Thanks again.” Gabrielle pressed a quick kiss to her son’s forehead and turned toward the hall door.

  “Gabrielle, sweetie? Freshen up.”

  She looked down at her wrinkled T-shirt and torn jeans, coffee stains dotting them. It would be fun to dress up, to have time to do more than scrape back her hair in a hair tie. Smiling, she raced toward the connecting door back into her room and yanked open her small suitcase. Not much to pick from, but clean beat coffee-stained any day of the week.

  Fifteen minutes later, she felt more like her old self in a black mini dress with red leggings, her hair loose around her shoulders. Each teasing brush along her neck reminded her of her dreams of Hank.

  Was she apologizing so she could have those fantasies back and maybe bring them to life? Possibly. She wasn’t sure. But she did know that for the first time in a year, she was truly…hopeful.

  Her fingers trailed down the polished mahogany banister as she made her way downstairs, the sound of banging pots in the kitchen drawing her feet toward the back of the house. Standing at the six-burner gas cooktop built into the island, Hank lifted lids and stirred, three different pots going at once. A white apron splattered with red sauce looked delightfully incongruous on his hulking body. A lacy little hand towel was draped over his shoulder. An arm’s reach away, he snuck bites from a serving tray with fat strawberries, soft white cheese and crostinis. Savory scents of something Italian filled the air until she salivated for everything in the room, the food and the man.

  Tasting some kind of red sauce, Hank looked over the spoon at her. “Before you lose your cool, I’m cooking for me, not for you.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yep, wouldn’t want you to think I’m steamrolling you or anything.” He dropped the spoon into the porcelain sink.

  “You can call off the guards. I come in peace.” She leaned against the door frame, and yeah, she relished every second of the way his eyes were drawn to her legs. The tingle of feminine power felt good, really good.

  But first things first.

  “Hank, I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier. I stand by what I said, but not the way I said it.”

  “Fair enough.” He placed the lids back on the simmering pots of whatever aromatic magnificence they held. “And I apologize for not consulting you.”

  “You were right that I would have turned you down,” she conceded with a grace he deserved.

  He tugged the little towel from his shoulder and dried his hands, the island still looming between them. “And you were right. Perhaps springing the surprise on you during Max’s first night home from the hospital wasn’t the best timing.”

  “You’re forgiven.”

  Something unsettling flickered in his cobalt-blue eyes, so fast there and gone it barely registered. “I take that to mean you’re not packing.”

  “Staying here is best for Max.” And was it best for her? It certainly shook her from her safe little routine.

  Could she indulge in a no-strings affair with Hank? To hell with how different her life was now. What did it matter if this was just short-term? Even considering it made her tingle all over with the possibilities, what tonight might hold.

  She shoved away from the door frame and crossed to the granite-topped island. “I’ll admit, I’m frustrated that I can’t give him everything he
needs, but I recognize that a hotel and a worn-out mom may not be in his best interest.”

  He tossed the wadded towel from hand to hand. “Does that mean Leonie can stay, as well?”

  “She needs the money.” She circled around to him.

  “And you need the help?”

  “Don’t push your luck.” She snatched the hand towel from him in midair and snapped his hip.

  He stepped closer, the air simmering between them as tangibly as the food in those pots. “I certainly don’t want to blow my chances of getting lucky.”

  Her mouth fell open in shock. Before she could close it, Hank popped a plump strawberry between her lips. As she bit down, the explosion of flavor on her already heightened senses made her a strawberry fan for life. Life felt sharper, crisper—better—with Hank around.

  She shifted her attention to the platter to give herself time to pull her thoughts together. “I’m guessing this is supper?”

  “A late one, yes.”

  The way he said those last words felt layered somehow with a deeper meaning. But then, maybe she was searching for things she wanted to be true. “I’m here, and starving. I’m glad you waited.”

  * * *

  Hank watched Gabrielle across the table from him, their lanai dinners becoming a habit. A very pleasurable habit. He’d spent the afternoon pulling this together for her, hoping to make up for their fight. Lights hung from the trees, like the party next door from last night. He’d cued up music, classical, like the concerts he remembered Kevin talk about attending with her and how he’d sworn his ears were bleeding by intermission.

  Hank’s smile faded as he looked across the table.

  She was right about how it always seemed to come back to the three of them. Tonight, he needed to make this memory about just the two of them, damn it. If he couldn’t do that, then he needed to walk away clean rather than tormenting them both.

  He was still grateful as hell she’d forgiven him and agreed to eat supper. She’d even seemed to genuinely enjoy his homemade tomato basil sauce. His repertoire of meals wasn’t that huge, but since spending a ton of money on help for her hadn’t gone so well for him, he decided to opt for something more personal. She’d grown up in a family of more modest means, so he figured he might gain more traction in showing her how he’d come from a more down-to-earth family than their current media status would indicate.