by Laura Moore
When the weather was too cold or blustery, they hung out at home, sitting on the sofa by the fire, he researching potential companies and catching up on his reading, she doing her course work or talking on her cell to potential clients in her low, husky voice. When she hung up, he often had to pull her down onto the cushions and get her naked. Her voice continued to do things to him.
The wedding announcements had done their job, successfully stymieing her aunt Mimi. Dakota’s clients had been wowed that she was now married to “one of their own.” Dakota had also launched a vigorous counterattack, campaigning hard for new clients by placing ads in luxury mags, as well as on websites and blogs devoted to the Hamptons. In a stroke of serendipity, Tom Hunter, an A-list Hollywood actor who’d been friends with Dakota when they were kids and who was one of her long-standing clients, got in touch with her about overseeing the refurbishment of his East Hampton property. She and Astrid and their crews had been at work on the house for the past month.
Max admitted to being impressed. Hunter had done everything—coming-of-age movies, action flicks, gritty dramas, indie projects—and was always worth watching. Naturally he’d quizzed her about the star…to no avail. She’d shaken her head, given an impish smile, and said, “I’m afraid I can’t discuss Mr. Hunter with you. I take my nondisclosure agreements very seriously.”
The day he received the letter from the Maidstone Club offering him membership, Dakota had crowed with delight. The thing that got him was that she didn’t even like golf and, as soon as he finished reading the letter, had informed him he’d be on his own—or with his business pals—when it came to hitting the links. No, her satisfaction came from knowing that her aunt hadn’t been successful in blackballing him from the club.
In addition to being a vindictive witch, Mimi Hale Walsh was a sore loser. She hadn’t stopped trying to make life hell for Dakota, continuing to badmouth her wherever and whenever she could. It was obnoxious and embarrassing, and why Dakota’s mother not only sat back and let it happen but also called to whine about how unpleasant this was for her and that Dakota should really do something about it, Max couldn’t figure out.
It was good that Dakota had such great friends, because she had a seriously lousy family. Since he was hardly in a position to dispense advice when it came to such matters, he kept his mouth shut. But he didn’t like how unhappy Dakota was after her mother’s calls.
Fortunately, the baby was doing well, and that went a long way toward banishing the noxiousness of Piper’s conversations.
Dakota had seen Dr. Davis twice. The first visit had been to recheck Dakota’s blood, blood pressure, and weight. As he’d watched the blood being drawn, he’d done his best to remain calm, telling himself that it was okay that Dakota was still puking in the mornings—at least she wasn’t losing all her meals—and found himself willing the vials of dark red blood to be healthy.
But he hadn’t realized the depths of his anxiety until Dr. Davis entered the exam room with a smile on her face. Dakota had gained three pounds. Better still, her iron level was now within the normal range. The blood was good.
“So we’re out of the woods?” Dakota had asked.
Dr. Davis had nodded. “I’m very happy to see these numbers getting to where they should be. Congratulations, Dakota. You’re doing a good job taking care of yourself.”
Busy dealing with the relief flooding him, he’d concentrated on breathing evenly while he stared at the lines of the tiled floor.
Then Dakota said, “It’s Max you should congratulate, Dr. Davis. He’s been a tyrant—a benevolent one, but still.”
“Well, keep it up, Max, and you’ll have a healthy, happy baby and partner.”
“Wife,” Max had automatically corrected, earning him a surprised smile from Dakota.
The second appointment had been last week, and Dakota had had another ultrasound. He’d been stunned by how different the baby looked at fourteen weeks. Its head was defined, with ears, eyes, a nose, and a mouth—all tiny and all there. It had arms and legs, fingers and toes, and its body curled—furled—tight.
While Max had stared, cataloguing every detail of this new being, Dakota reached out and took his hand. He looked at her, and her eyes were bright with unshed tears. Her wide smile told him they were tears of joy. Somehow he knew he was included in that joy.
It blew his mind.
Because of the baby’s position, Dr. Davis hadn’t been able to determine its sex. That was okay. He didn’t care if it was a boy or a girl; all that mattered was for the baby and Dakota to be healthy.
As for the smiles Dakota gave him, showing her happiness and sharing it with him, well, they were the reason he was presently in Sag Harbor running errands on a Saturday afternoon when he could be doing a dozen better and far more entertaining things. One of the items on the list she’d given him was to pick up cupcakes—cupcakes—for the kids who were coming to the house for Sunday brunch to celebrate Steve Sheppard’s making the United States Equestrian Federation’s short list for the show jumping team. If he and his horses did well in the designated shows in the United States and Europe this spring, they’d be Olympics bound. Kind of cool. They would also be unveiling Gen Monaghan’s new painting, which now hung in a prominent spot in the living room. Last but not least, the brunch marked his and Dakota’s first organized party as a couple.
After picking up the ordered cupcakes and buying another cake for the hell of it, he walked back to Main Street, where he’d parked, and, on impulse, went into the jewelry store, where a necklace was displayed in the window. Made of brown and gold-streaked stones, their color reminded him of Dakota’s eyes. He thought she might like it. Maybe she’d wear it while he was in California next week, he thought as he thanked the saleswoman, took the gift bag from her, and stepped back outside.
He was flying out for the closing between AB1, the robotics company, and a German corporation that was acquiring it lock, stock, and barrel. Max didn’t relish going away, but now that Dr. Davis had reassured them that both Dakota and the baby were doing okay, he couldn’t foist the trip off on one of his associates. The sale was his show, and a mega-hit at that.
He should have been excited about it.
Perhaps he would have been if he hadn’t been pissed at Bob Elders for taking Chris Steffen’s side. Steffen had gone behind Max’s back to bitch about him, leading Bob to call Max into his office and lecture him about how brilliant Steffen was—translation: how much money he was going to make them—and how they needed to keep him happy.
On the sidewalk he glanced at Dakota’s list. His next destination was Wainscott, where he had to pick up smoked salmon at the Seafood Shop. Right, he thought, and shoved the slip of paper back into the rear pocket of his jeans. Looking up, he saw the sign for Sagtown Coffee. The café was tucked away at the end of a brick-lined side alley. In solidarity with Dakota’s caffeine-free existence, he’d been cutting back on his intake, but he could really go for a triple espresso right now. Maybe the jolt would remind him of his former self and what he’d been like before he’d gotten hung up on Dakota’s smile, before he’d gotten tied in knots over a baby.
The small café was fairly crowded, but he found a table. He had his phone out and was checking his messages and sipping his espresso when a woman’s bag, the kind that was nearly as big as the carry-on he’d be packing for his flight to California, banged his shoulder, sloshing coffee over his fingers.
“Shit.” He cast an irritated glare at the owner of the bag. She was blond, tall, and thin, dressed in tight jeans and a silver down jacket.
“Sorry,” she said in the kind of bored voice that announced she didn’t give a rat’s ass that she’d nearly sent his coffee flying, and glanced over her shoulder at him. She seemed to do a double take, and then laughed in throaty delight. “Well, well. At long last we meet.”
He looked at her blankly, wondering why she would know him. She was older but, like many New York women he’d encountered, impeccably maintained,
with glowing skin and few wrinkles, so he couldn’t tell by how much. She was quite beautiful, with high cheekbones and a mouth that was now curved in a provocative smile.
His lack of recognition seemed to amuse her, though he detected a hard glint in her bright blue eyes.
“Now that I’ve seen you in the flesh, I understand why Dakota keeps putting me off. I’d want you all to myself, too.” She extended a slender manicured hand. “I’m Piper.”
Piper? Dakota’s mother? Stunned, he rose automatically and shook her hand. “Hello.” He didn’t think saying “Good to meet you” quite fit when encountering one’s mother-in-law for the first time. And what a mother-in-law, he thought. “Would you like to sit down?”
She smiled. “I would.” All lanky grace, she lowered herself into the chair. Then, propping her elbows on the table, she leaned forward as if they were alone in the world. Her leg brushed his.
Max stilled. It wasn’t as if he was unused to women flirting with him. But having the mother of his wife do so…that was a different kind of beast. He made sure his left hand rested on the table, his wedding band front and center.
“So how is Dakota doing? She looked rather wan the last time I saw her.” She didn’t sound terribly concerned.
Had Dakota shared Dr. Davis’s initial concerns about her low weight, blood pressure, and iron levels? If she hadn’t, it probably wasn’t his place to do so, which was fine by him. He had no desire to wade into murky familial waters.
“She’s doing great. She looks terrific.”
She smiled and made an amused sound, as if she thought he was sweet for saying so. Okay, so she was one of those who didn’t like to hear another woman complimented. It probably bugged the hell out of her that Dakota was ten times more beautiful.
“Dakota’s always been so stubbornly conventional.” She lowered a hand from her chin to trace idle patterns on the wood table. “Sometimes I have a hard time believing she’s my child….”
Funny, he thought. He was having a hard time, too.
“So imagine my surprise when she went and got herself pregnant. I’d always been sure she’d marry one of her incredibly doltish boyfriends before producing the requisite two children. Has she suggested Haven as a name?”
He was stuck on the doltish boyfriends. He didn’t like thinking of Dakota with former boyfriends, whether dolts or Einstein geniuses. Damn, falling for her was bad enough. Was he also becoming jealous of her past? “Haven?” he repeated.
“Well, Windhaven would hardly work, but Haven might. Then she’d be following my example there, too.” She cocked her head. “Hasn’t she told you why she’s named Dakota?”
He’d asked her about it, sure. It had been a Saturday after they’d gotten together. They’d been driving back from Ditch Plains. He’d asked why someone from an old Hamptons family had a given name like Dakota. She’d stared out the passenger window for several seconds before answering. “Just one of my mother’s whims.”
Clearly there was more to the story. Max didn’t like going behind Dakota’s back, but he was curious as to what her mother would say.
“No, I don’t believe she has,” he said.
“Really?” Her jacket made a slithery sound when she shrugged, as if she were at a loss to understand Dakota’s motive. “As I said, she’s stubbornly conventional. I named her after the Dakota in New York City. It’s where she was conceived. I was there for a party, an utterly wild and fabulous bash where anything goes. I’m sure you know the kind.”
It bothered him that he did. And that he’d known women just like Piper Hale.
“And there was this fantastic man.” She picked up her coffee and took a sip. Setting the cup down, she licked her lip, upping the flirt level to an eleven. “You remind me of him—except for the coloring, of course. Well, we made very good use of one of the palatial bathrooms.” She smiled. “When Dakota came along, I thought it only appropriate to name her after the place where she was created. So wouldn’t Haven be funny and just so perfect?”
“I think not.”
“Oh well.” She made a moue of disappointment. “You know, I’ve been meaning to drop by and see the old family digs.”
“Dakota’s done a fantastic job with the renovation.”
“At least she inherited something from me. But I’ll reserve judgment until I see it for myself.” Her finger had resumed tracing patterns on the table, inching ever closer to his hand. He thanked God there was a table between them.
“Dakota could use your help.” He had no idea why he said it.
She looked at him, her expression quizzical. “What do you mean, ‘help’?”
“Help. Support. Your sister’s still doing a hatchet job on her. I think Dakota would appreciate it if you stood up for her.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but Dakota will have to fight Mimi on her own. She’s made her bed—quite literally, hasn’t she? Now she can lie in it.” Her smile faded as she looked at him. “You know, you have some nerve butting into our family affairs.”
He shrugged. “I call it looking out for my wife. I want what’s best for her. What I can’t understand is why you don’t. Most mothers would.”
“My God, you really are full of yourself, aren’t you? Where do you get off thinking you can order me about? I was right. You are just like Diego—” Stopping short, she shot him a look that should have left him bleeding on the floor. It was kind of impressive how quickly she shed her charming coquette routine.
With a finger she snagged the sleeve of her parka, exposing a gold watch, and glanced at it. “My, my, I’ve completely lost track of time. Funnily enough, I’m due at Mimi’s. I’ll tell her you and Dakota send your love, shall I?”
Max took his time unloading the Range Rover. He wasn’t sure what tack to take with respect to his recent run-in with Dakota’s mother, and probably would have chosen to keep it to himself had he not been convinced Piper would bring it up in conversation with Dakota.
The house, as always, was clean. Now that he’d met Piper, he understood better why Dakota relished having things neat and orderly. A mother who thrived on discord would have that effect. But as he carried the groceries inside, he noted that today the house gleamed and the scent of flowers, lemon, and beeswax filled the air; Dakota and her crew had gone to town.
Convincing Dakota to follow Dr. Davis’s advice and slow down had proved harder than wheedling her into eating a midnight snack. Fortunately, Premier Service had acquired some new clients. The extra accounts plus the revamping of Tom Hunter’s house had tipped the scales, requiring Dakota to hire additional staff. It was Rae who had the brilliant idea of training the new employees at Windhaven. It meant Dakota didn’t have to drive from house to house to oversee their cleaning methods. Once they’d met Dakota’s exacting standards, then the crew was ready to go out and conquer the world.
In the kitchen, Max left the cupcakes and the cake on the counter, stowed the perishables in the fridge and, gift bag in hand, went off in search of her.
The orange glow from the outdoor fireplace served as a beacon. He and Dakota had taken to sitting on the redesigned patio, warmed by the flames that crackled and leapt, to watch the blue-gold sky change and deepen to a rosy silvery purple. The light in the Hamptons was like nothing he’d seen before.
Dakota was on the yoga mat she’d rolled out on the bluestone patio. She must have thought she’d have more time before he returned. He wasn’t much for yoga, but he was all in favor of watching her in black leggings and long-sleeved top as she lunged, planked, rose, balanced on one leg, and whatever. The fluid grace of her moves reminded him of when she was on her surfboard, riding the cresting waves with elegance and control.
Looking at her, one wouldn’t guess she was pregnant. The only sign he saw so far was that her breasts were larger and even more sensitive. An excellent development. He loved that he could bring her right to the edge with just his hands and mouth massaging and teasing her taut peaks. To his surprise, he found he liked the
idea of her body ripening with their child, and was impatient to see more changes.
Before stepping outside, he went into the study and grabbed a wool throw off the sofa. She turned her head at the sound of him opening the French door, and there was that smile again, the one that told Max he was in serious trouble.
“You’re back,” she said, straightening out of her lunge.
“Yes. Mission accomplished. Don’t stop,” he said. “I’ll just sit here and enjoy the show.”
“No, I’ve done enough.” She came over and dropped down on the wicker sofa, tacking on a “Thanks” and scooting closer to him when he draped the throw over her legs. “You know, I really didn’t like this house very much before. If you had suggested tearing it down, a part of me might have gone, ‘Yeah, let’s raze it to the ground.’ But it would all be so different if you’d taken a wrecking ball to it.” She paused to look about her. “Even this patio.”
“Plus the work wouldn’t be finished.”
She laughed. “There’s that to consider. Most likely we’d be sitting next to a cement mixer. But you know what? This house is pretty great. I was thinking that when I was doing the flowers for the living and dining room. Your presence has successfully banished the ghosts of Hales past.”
If Dakota wanted to believe it was his achievement, he wasn’t going to argue. But he knew it was all her. There were even moments when he thought she’d managed to banish the darkness inside him as well. “Actually, it’s our house. I just leave more clothes lying around.”
