Father and Child Reunion

by Christine Flynn

  He shook his head, but she didn’t know if he meant it wasn’t, or that he didn’t know. It didn’t matter. The way he touched her, sensitizing her nerves as he reacquainted himself with the texture of her skin, the shape of her body, made it impossible to think of anything other than what he was doing.

  His mouth brushed hers, causing her to tip her head back with a little moan when he stepped closer and began to slowly unbutton her blouse. His tongue slipped intimately over hers, teasing, coaxing, while his hands worked their way down to the waistband of her jeans. When he reached denim, he tugged out her shirt, shaping her bare ribs with his hands and her breasts with his palms before he peeled the cloth back over her shoulders.

  Eve whispered his name, trembling. He answered with a quiet “Shh” against her lips and worked open the zipper of her jeans.

  He was so gentle. So patient. But that patience came with a price. When he pushed her jeans over her hips so she could step out of them, she had to hold his arm to keep from falling. It was like gripping marble. She felt that same raw tension in his shoulders when her arms circled his neck, and in the bunched muscles in his back when he eased her over to the bed and lowered her to the sheets. Mostly, she could feel it in herself when he leaned over her, slipping his leg between hers and meeting her lips once more. She seemed to absorb it from him, making what he felt part of her very being. He was already more a part of her than he would ever know. Not just because of Molly. But because she loved him. She wasn’t sure she’d ever stopped.

  She was probably certifiable for wanting him as badly as she did, but Eve couldn’t be rational in Rio’s arms. She didn’t want to be. So she simply sought him as he sought her, arching against him to get as close to him as she could.

  That small movement of her hips nearly did him in.

  She remembered exactly what to do. Rio told her that, too, rasping the words against her ear while he stripped away her bra and filled his palm with her soft flesh. He felt her shiver as the warmth of his hand brushed her cooler skin. Then he shuddered himself when she told him he made remembering easy and she slipped her fingers under his belt.

  He caught her wrist, trapped her hand by her head to nuzzle the fullness of her breast. Heat shafted through him when he drew her nipple into his mouth and he felt it bloom against his tongue. She was so beautifully, artlessly responsive, and she had responded like this only to him. The knowledge humbled him, aroused him. But when he skimmed his hand over her belly, knowing it had borne his child, he was filled with a sense of possession so fierce he could scarcely breathe.

  He reared back, his hands quick as they worked the buttons from his shirt and he whipped back the sides to get rid of it. She was temptation itself lying in the moonlight, the skin of her shoulders smooth and pale, the centers of her breasts flushed and hard. She reached for him, her touch tentative as she ran her hand down his smooth, bronzed chest. Lean, corrugated muscles rippled beneath her fingers. The look in her eyes was part wonder, part desire, and he thought he might die if he didn’t get inside her.

  The rasp of his zipper gave way to the brush of denim as jeans joined shirt and shoes on the floor. Rio slowed down long enough to retrieve his wallet, finding the packet tucked inside. It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman. So long he wasn’t sure how long his control would last.

  Skin finally touched skin. Warm to cool. Hard to soft. Eve murmured his name, the sound shimmering through him like white heat. It took more control than he thought he possessed, but he took his time, molding her body to his, letting limbs tangle and seek, then pulling back to taunt again. He wanted her to ache for him the way he ached for her, to drive her mindless with need. But he was perilously close to the edge himself just watching her while he stroked her warm, damp flesh, then leaned down to drink in her soft little moans.

  She tore her mouth from his, her breathing shallow, and begged him to stop. He would, he told her, in a while, and felt the sweat bead along his spine when her fingers dug into his back, coaxing him closer.

  That urging was all it took. Need replaced want. Urgency canceled control. He moved over her, cradling her hips against him and gathering her in his arms. But when he eased into her and she began to meet his long, fluid strokes, conscious thought ceased. He was aware of nothing but the sensation of his body racing toward the missing piece of his spirit.

  * * *

  The moon had disappeared. Rio lay in the dark, holding Eve in his arms and staring at the shadows. She felt like the other half of him, the part of his being that made him whole. Yet he knew he’d felt that way about her once before. He’d let himself care about her. More deeply than he’d cared about another living soul. But when the going got tough, and she’d learned she was pregnant, she hadn’t turned to him. When she’d seen no way out of her situation, she’d walked away from him without a word. He knew she’d tried to reach him later. He knew what his mother had then done. But he still couldn’t shake the thought that she might very well walk away again. After all, she wasn’t the only person who’d ever done that to him.

  Chapter Ten

  The sound of voices drifted into Eve’s quiet bedroom. One was sweet and soft, the other low and deep. She snuggled into the warmth of the sheets, the whispered sounds feeding the sweet lethargy that filled her body. Lulled toward the welcome escape of sleep, she seemed to drift in and out of that blissful state—until those same sounds began to tease her consciousness, denying her the peace to which her subconscious clung.

  In a matter of seconds, Eve’s seldom-felt contentment vanished like smoke in a strong wind. Rio was still there. And Molly was awake.

  A rush of anxiety annihilated the last vestiges of peace. Moaning to herself when she saw her clothes strewn over the floor, doing it again when she swung her protesting body from the bed, she grabbed her robe from the closet. She had no idea how Molly had reacted to finding Rio there. Or what he might have said to her.

  Another groan, this one mental, and she shoved her fingers through her hair. She had all but begged Rio to make love to her last night. She couldn’t begin to imagine how badly that had complicated their situation.

  Conversation came to a halt the moment she swung open the door. Rio and Molly were in the middle of the wide hallway, Molly in her pink Pocahontas nightgown holding Ted, and Rio crouched in front of her. His shirttail hung over his slacks, and when he stood and turned, he was buttoning the middle button.

  Her heart bumped her breastbone when his dark eyes locked on hers.

  “Hi,” she quietly said, tightening the belt of her white cotton robe.

  “Hi yourself.” His glance was steady, his tone remarkably normal. “We were just discussing who gets the bathroom first.”

  “He said I could go first ’cause girls take longer,” Molly informed her, still looking half-asleep. “But I told him I don’t take as long as you.”

  “You did, did you?”

  The little girl nodded.

  Seeming totally nonplussed to have found Rio coming from her mother’s bedroom, she gave a yawn and leaned against her mother’s leg for a hug. A moment later, having received what she was after, she peeled herself away and headed toward the end of the hall.

  Eve had no sooner glanced back toward Rio than she felt his hand slip between her shoulder blades. “You can go share with her. I’ll be downstairs.”

  “You’re not leaving yet, are you?”

  “Do you want me to?”

  “No! No,” she repeated, too relieved that he wasn’t preparing to bolt to worry about how anxious she might sound. “I just thought…” She cut herself off, shaking her head. “I don’t know what I thought.”

  His hand slipped over her shoulder, kneading the tight muscles there. The touch was soothing, reassuring, and did more to relieve the insecurities clamoring inside her than he could possibly know.

  “I’d hoped to get out of here before Molly saw me coming from your room, but she was already awake. The damage is done, so there’s no ne
ed to leave right now. I need coffee, anyway.” He glanced toward the door, now ajar, at the end of the hall. With their little girl out of sight, he leaned down and brushed a too brief kiss over her lips. When he lifted his head, concern slashed parallel lines between his dark eyebrows. “You look like you could use some, too. Are you all right?”

  If she hadn’t been before, she was now. Smiling, she whispered that she was and touched her hand to the hard line of his jaw. She wasn’t sure if he’d meant to protect her or Molly by preserving propriety. She didn’t know, either, if he’d asked if she was okay because of how she’d been when he’d arrived last night, or because of what had happened afterward. It didn’t matter. Whatever his intentions, she loved him for them.

  Still looking concerned despite her assurances, he drew her to him, kissing her with enough heat to remind her of how they’d awakened in the wee hours of the morning to make love again. And again. The memories alone were enough to turn her blood to steam, but he didn’t let her go until the sound of water running in the pipes made it apparent that Molly could reappear any moment.

  Decidedly unsteady, Eve let her hands slide reluctantly from him and said she’d be down in a minute to put on the coffee. He told her to make it strong, then headed for the bathroom downstairs before he could do what he looked like he wanted to do and back her through her bedroom door. It could have all been so awkward this morning. But instead of having to deal with regrets for complicating their situation, Eve was left with the feeling that this particular complication just might work out all right.

  Because it had been so long since she’d felt such hope, she clung to the thought like a talisman while she helped Molly wash and got her started on her teeth. Hearing the shower go on downstairs, she had Molly dress in the bathroom with her while she dove into the shower herself. Fifteen minutes later, a casual peach blouse tucked into matching pants and her hair drying on its own, she entered the kitchen to pour milk on Molly’s cereal before her daughter, two minutes ahead of her, decided to get helpful and do it herself.

  Rio had beat her to it.

  He sat across from Molly at the table in the breakfast nook, listening to her explain something about Ted and tea parties between bites of multicolored puffed corn. His damp hair was combed straight back, his white shirt open at the neck. Sitting as he was, with one hand wrapped around a half-empty glass of milk, he looked very much like he belonged there.

  Eve didn’t let the thought get any further than that. It was far too appealing, and far too close to a dream she had abandoned long ago.

  Skimming a smile past them both, she reached for the coffee canister.

  “Mommy, he’s going to be my daddy.”

  The green crockery lid skittered across the counter, then split into two pieces on the shiny hardwood floor. Eve ignored it. Clutching the canister to her stomach, her glance darted straight to Rio.

  He’d told her he’d wait until she was ready before anything was said to Molly.

  With more disbelief than accusation, she watched Rio calmly rise from his chair. Walking past her, he picked up the two halves and set them on the counter.

  “It’s not what you think.” His voice was as tight as his expression when he took the canister from her before she dropped it, too. “She asked me if I’d be her daddy.”

  “Just pretend,” Molly piped in. “Like when I’m the mommy and Ted comes to my house for tea.”

  Rio leaned against the counter, arms crossed. It was as clear to Eve as the sunlight streaming into the spacious room that he didn’t appreciate her reaction. It was just as clear that he was waiting to see what she’d do next.

  What she wanted to do was go back to bed and start over. What existed between her and Rio after last night was far too new for this sort of test.

  “So what did he say?” she asked Molly, making herself sound as if she was into their little game.

  “He said sure.”

  “That was nice of him, wasn’t it?”

  “Uh-huh. And you know what?”

  “What?”

  “He said I can call him daddy if I want.”

  “You asked him if you could do that?”

  Molly gave a nod, then shoveled in another spoonful of cereal.

  “Well,” Eve continued, turning to the man silently watching her. “Tell you what. Since you’re the daddy, you get a washcloth for her face and find out where she left her blue hair ribbons, and I’ll get the coffee on. Her bus will be here in a few minutes.”

  She held his glance, feeling as guarded as he looked—until she saw his jaw relax. “Hair ribbons?”

  “She’ll help you.”

  Still aware of the tension lingering in his body, she pulled the empty carafe from the coffeemaker and turned on the water.

  Rio moved with her, voice low. “Do you have anywhere you have to be this morning?”

  “Not for a while. Why?”

  He pushed the coffee canister toward her. “We need to talk.”

  “I want a braid today, Mommy. Not pigtails.”

  “Okay,” she replied, speaking to the man, responding to the child and trying to not think of anything other than the physical tasks at hand. Concentrating only on what needed to be done at that moment was the only way she knew to avoid the anxious feeling building in her chest.

  Less than ten minutes later, as Eve walked back into the kitchen after putting Molly on the church bus for day camp, that anxiety compounded itself.

  Two mugs of coffee sat steaming on the counter. Picking up both, Rio handed her one and motioned toward the table.

  “Let’s sit down.”

  She gave him a nod, uneasily aware of his caution as he settled into the same chair he’d vacated earlier and cupped his strong hands around his mug.

  She took Molly’s chair, moving the bowl and spoon off the hunter green place mat to mirror his position. There was something so civilized about discussing matters over coffee. But the atmosphere wasn’t conducive to comfortable conversation. Without Molly’s chatty presence, there was nothing to buffer the tension suddenly filling the room.

  “I’m sorry about before,” she began, unwilling to let silence add to the strain. “I was just caught so off guard….”

  “Don’t worry about it. There wasn’t much else you could think.”

  Her gratitude for his understanding was reflected in her soft smile. But she didn’t get to tell him that the betraying thought had lasted only a second. Or that she truly couldn’t imagine him breaking his word.

  “I don’t want it to be ‘just pretend,’ Eve. I want to tell her.”

  Sucking in a quiet breath, her fingers tightened on the handle of her mug.

  “Children need to know what to expect from their parents. You said that yourself in the speech you gave yesterday,” he reminded her, searching her face for signs of resistance. “I want Molly to know she can count on me to be there for her if she needs me.”

  Like my father wasn’t.

  He didn’t need to say the words. She could practically hear them, anyway.

  There was a loose thread on the fringe of the place mat. Pulling it out, Eve absently balled it between her fingers.

  “When did you want to tell her?”

  “I leave that to you. But soon.”

  “We can tell her tonight, if you want.”

  His eyes narrowed on hers. “You’d be all right with that?”

  More than all right. His desire to commit to his daughter fed the hope that, despite all her efforts to restrain it, had taken root in her heart. “She adores you.”

  “We’ll tell her together,” he said, seeming to weigh what was best for all of them as he absently stroked the back of her hand. “But we need to be ready for any questions. That means we need to talk about taking care of the legalities, too.”

  “Legalities?”

  “I want joint custody. If we work out the details before we go to an attorney, the process shouldn’t take long. We just need to decide when she shoul
d come here and when I should go there. As long as we’re both in Grand Springs, sharing her isn’t a problem. We can just keep doing what we’re doing now,” he added, a certain hesitation slipping into his expression. “But if you leave, we’ll have to handle things differently. It’ll be better if we have it all figured out ahead of time.”

  If you leave, he’d said. Not when. But the distinction was lost on Eve at the moment. His words, so reasonably spoken, snatched back the hope she’d been so foolish to harbor and left her feeling completely exposed. She’d been so careful to avoid picturing them as a family, but the desire had been there, anyway. And joint custody meant he wasn’t thinking about them that way at all.

  Pulling back, she felt her stomach knot.

  “You have this all figured out, don’t you.” She rose, picked up her mug and Molly’s bowl, then turned from him to hide her pain. It was important that they stay calm. This was about Molly, after all. Not her. Even after last night, she still didn’t matter that much to him. “Tell me,” she said, deflecting the hurt with the activity of rinsing away the remains of Molly’s breakfast. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

  Chair legs scraped against the floor. “A couple of weeks.”

  “And you’re just now bringing it up?”

  “What would I have said? I had to know what we needed to do, first.”

  “You could have said, ‘Eve, I’m thinking about filing for joint custody, but I don’t know what we have to do so I’m looking into it.’”

  “I wanted to talk to my mother, too.”

  “You did that a week ago. And I know more happened there than what you told me. You could let me in on it, you know.”

  She caught the incomprehension shadowing his face just before she glanced back to the bowl in her hand. Or maybe it was defensiveness.

  “No, I don’t suppose you could,” she told him, all too familiar with the wall of protection he’d built around himself. It had always been there. Years ago, she’d just been too young and naive to recognize it. “You don’t share anything unless you have to. You don’t even realize what a hypocrite you are, do you?” Honest disbelief softened her voice. “It’s all right for you to dig into people’s lives, to tear them apart to see what they’re thinking and feeling, but you never let anyone know what’s going on with you. What is going on, anyway?”