Her Baby and Her Beau

by Victoria Pade

  Luckily the doctor had been patient with Kyla’s anxiety as well as Beau’s military-offensive-like invasion of his office. The doctor had checked out Immy, diagnosed car sickness, and told them they were just going to have to tough it out until they got her home.

  To the accompaniment of more constant crying, they hadn’t accomplished that until after eight o’clock. Once they had the baby out of the car again—as at the doctor’s office—she’d seemed fine. So they’d given her a bath, a bottle that she’d taken and kept down, and then Immy had gone peacefully to sleep in her crib.

  At that point Beau and Kyla had gone to their separate rooms and bathrooms to shower off the miserable day and were now reconvened in the kitchen for the wine they’d agreed they needed.

  “I’m sorry today was so bad,” Kyla said then.

  “It needed to be done,” Beau answered as if it hadn’t been as big a deal as it had been.

  A different man might have made the bad situations worse by losing his temper. But Beau had been in control through everything. He hadn’t seemed affected by the crying as he drove, he’d dealt with the messes without so much as grumbling, and even when Kyla had seen that he was also starting to think there was something seriously wrong with Immy, he’d taken action with complete composure. Maybe too much action, but still, he hadn’t been as frantic in the process as Kyla had been. And even now he wasn’t complaining.

  “I guess the endurance and fortitude you learned in the Marines can come in handy with a carsick two-month-old on a long road trip,” she said.

  “So that’s what that training was for,” he joked.

  Kyla thought it might have been the first time she’d heard him refer to anything military with humor, but she didn’t mention that. She just took a sip of her wine and tried to peel her eyes off him.

  After his shower he’d come down wearing a form-hugging white T-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants that rode low on his hips in about the sexiest way she’d ever seen.

  “I called the automotive department at the Colorado Boulevard store while you were still upstairs,” he said then, obviously unaware of the effect of clothes he’d no doubt put on only for comfort’s sake. “I’m having them pick up your car in the morning to clean and detail it inside and out—hopefully that will mitigate some of the damage.”

  “I didn’t know Camden Superstores did that.”

  “They usually change oil and tires, do some minor repairs.”

  “But if it’s a Camden on the other end of the phone they’ll do whatever you ask,” Kyla finished for him.

  “Rank has its privileges,” he said, doing a second air toast before he drank his wine.

  And maybe took in the sight of her over his glass while he did, Kyla noticed.

  Having brought back her entire wardrobe in the trunk of her sedan, she’d had more clothing options tonight. So after her own shower she’d changed into a flowy navy-blue knit A-line sundress that fell to midcalf.

  She’d chosen it because it was cool and comfortable, and after coming back hot and sticky and splattered with things she hadn’t wanted to think about, that had seemed perfect. Plus—like the tank top the night before—the dress had a built-in bra that freed her from wearing anything more constricting.

  What hadn’t appealed to her was the thought of anything on her feet, so she was barefoot as they stood at the island counter.

  They were at a right angle from each other with a bowl of fresh fruit between them that had come straight from the Camden fields in Northbridge. Kyla picked a raspberry out of the bowl to munch.

  Then she took a deep breath and said something she’d been avoiding since the day before. “While I was with Darla yesterday I made arrangements for an apartment for Immy and me.”

  That clearly took Beau by surprise. “In Northbridge?”

  “No, I guess it’s near here, actually—in a building that overlooks Washington Park?” That was a question rather than a statement because she had no real knowledge of the area—she was only repeating what she’d been told.

  “Washington Park isn’t far from here,” he confirmed, suddenly sounding a little reserved.

  “It’s Darla’s sister Pam’s apartment,” Kyla explained. “Two bedrooms, one bath, a small kitchen, nothing fancy. There are three months left on the lease and she wants to move in with her boyfriend, so she’s been looking for someone to take it over.”

  Kyla didn’t know why this was so difficult to say. Why she couldn’t summon even an ounce of enthusiasm for any of it.

  Taking over the apartment made perfect sense and it had just fallen into her lap—the ideal solution for her and Immy, and for Darla’s sister. Like puzzle pieces fitting into place.

  So why didn’t it feel exactly right? Why wasn’t she thrilled with the opportunity to reclaim her independence? Especially when it was being handed to her with so little effort on her part?

  She should have been thrilled. And the fact that she wasn’t unnerved her.

  “Pam—Darla’s sister—will leave the place furnished and the kitchen basically stocked because she doesn’t need her stuff at her boyfriend’s place for now,” she went on, not sure if she was elaborating on how perfect it was for Beau’s sake or to remind herself. “I’ll need to set up a crib and changing table, of course, but I won’t need any other furniture.” Beau nodded to show he was listening, but didn’t say anything.

  “At the end of the three months,” she continued, “Pam and her boyfriend plan to find a bigger place where both of their things will fit, and she’ll take everything then. But in the meantime I can move in with just my clothes and Immy’s gear and be all set up. Hopefully at the end of the three months I’ll know more about where things stand for Immy and me, and I’ll stay and take over the lease, or go back to Northbridge or whatever.”

  Beau said a clipped, “When?”

  “The swelling is down in my fingers and I can move them a little.” She demonstrated by raising her right hand and wiggling the no-longer-sausage-like fingers. “And my wrist hurts less and is getting stronger.”

  “I saw you flinch when you tried to pick Immy up in the car this afternoon,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “It’s better, though. I think another day or two—”

  “A day or two,” he repeated flatly.

  “Then we can be out of your hair, you can have your house to yourself again and go back to normal.”

  That was met only with silence.

  Kyla had no idea why she felt even worse now that she’d told him, now that she’d set the wheels into motion to actually do it. But she did.

  “I’ll still need your help, though,” she said then. “With all the business stuff. That’s why—when I told Pam where your house is and she said her place was nearby—I knew it was something I shouldn’t pass up. And the rent isn’t bad—I wouldn’t be able to pay it on my own, but the lawyer said I should start getting the stipend from Rachel and Eddie’s estate on the first of the month and that should be more than enough. Plus now I have checks for my own account in Northbridge and the replacement for one of my credit cards was in today’s mail.”

  “Money doesn’t matter—”

  Kyla laughed, but it was an uncomfortable, forced sound. “Spoken like someone who doesn’t live on a tight budget. I’m just saying that the financial predicament I was in right after the fire is resolved. Physically I’m much better. I think I can take care of Immy on my own—as long as I don’t try to take her on any long road trips. And staying here was always meant to be just a temporary thing. Until I could get on top of everything. And this week should do it...”

  First it was a day or two. Now she was giving herself the rest of the week?

  She hadn’t wanted to come here in the first place. Why was she dragging her feet about leaving? She should have been rushing out of here. What was wrong with her?

  “How did it go so fast?” Beau asked then, as if he was thinking out loud.

  The time had seemed to fly
by, so Kyla had no answer for him.

  Then, as if he was reasoning through it all himself, he said, “You do look healthy. Not like that first night I saw you at the motel.”

  “That’s thanks to you—you did all of Immy’s nighttime feedings and let me sleep in every morning. You did all the heavy work, all the lifting. You really did let me rest and recuperate, and it paid off.”

  “So you’ll leave and—what? We’ll keep in touch?” He said that as if it was a platitude that offended him.

  But Kyla answered as if she hadn’t noticed. “Sure. Like I said, there’s still the truck stops—I haven’t even seen the other two of those and don’t have any idea how to get to them because I don’t know my way around Denver. And I’d rather not take Immy to them by myself, so I’d appreciate help with that. And you said your financial people are working on projections so I’ll know whether or not I should take the buyout offer—I thought you’d be with me when that meeting is ready to happen. And then whatever comes from that—if I need more financial guidance or help running the business or—”

  “Right. All the business stuff. I’m still on board for that.”

  And yet...

  There seemed to be some other underlying question that went back to that we’ll keep in touch comment he’d made.

  Then his eyebrows arched a little forlornly and he said, “It just seems so soon. You don’t have to go, you know? You can stay here the whole time—until you’ve decided what to do with the business and whether or not to live in Denver or go back to Northbridge.”

  Oh, sure, spend months here. With him. Things—something—was already happening between them in the short time they’d been together. Where might they be months from now?

  No, Kyla knew that she had to find a way to get some control over whatever was happening and distance seemed like her only hope of accomplishing that.

  “I can’t just stay here,” she said without going into more detail than that.

  Beau took an accepting-sounding breath and exhaled, then he nodded in understanding. “I guess it’s just been good for me, too,” he said. “The place has felt more like home.”

  “That could be because everything isn’t pushed up against a wall and now you have knickknacks to make it feel more homey,” Kyla joked, in hopes of easing some of the tension.

  “Right—knickknacks. That’s probably it,” he said facetiously, smiling crookedly at her. Then he seemed to concede. “Just so you know—one or two days, a week, more than that—you can stay as long as you want, it’s up to you. And when you are ready to go I’ll do whatever you need me to do to help you move and get set up. And even after that...whatever you need.”

  “Whatever?” she asked leadingly in an attempt to stick to the lighter vein. “You’ll come rushing over at three in the morning to kill a spider or empty a mousetrap?”

  “Sure.”

  “How about dirty diaper duty? Can I call and you’ll do that?”

  He made a face and said with less enthusiasm, “Sure...”

  “And where do you stand on babysitting? Let’s say, I have a hot date...”

  “Not a chance in hell!” he shot back.

  “No babysitting? But you’d be perfect for that after all this—Immy knows you, you know how to take care of her.”

  “I’d babysit. But not for you to go out on a damn date!”

  She was just being ornery. She already knew it was going to be even more difficult than before not to compare any man she met to him and find them lacking. Despite the things about him that made her leery, there was still that body, that face, the man himself...

  Who was ever going to come close enough to all that for her to consider dating?

  And as she stood there, watching him pop a grape into the mouth she’d been missing since the minute she’d made him stop kissing her the night before, looking at that body she wanted to press up against, her conversation with Darla came back into her head.

  She wanted Beau so much she could hardly stand it. Regardless of how she tried to fight it, it was still true. Darla was right—he was peanut butter, and once the craving started it didn’t stop until she got some. So it did seem possible—likely, even—that unless she satisfied her craving for him, she wouldn’t ever be able to move on—not to Pam’s apartment, not to other men, not to the rest of her life.

  Maybe, she thought, she just had to satisfy the craving and be done with it in order to see straight again...

  “I am allowed to date, you know,” she said then, a flirty challenge in her tone. “There was not a no-dating clause in the guardianship papers.”

  “I guess I’ll see if I can have one added—Camden’s has a whole pool of lawyers. With a little underhanded editing you might have to become a nun.”

  “Never happen. I’m a free agent.” Who wasn’t exactly sure why she’d chosen this particular back-and-forth with him...

  “A free agent with a baby—that could cramp your style,” he countered, giving as good as he was getting.

  “But Immy is so cute—who won’t love her? We’ll find someone wonderful and be a little family in no time.”

  She realized she might have gone too far when he didn’t have a quick comeback for that. When, instead, his expression went a little inscrutable before he said, “Don’t be mean to me, Gibson.”

  “I wasn’t trying to be,” she admitted, sounding once again the way she had when she’d told him about the apartment—shaky.

  Then she held out another grape for him as a consolation.

  His eyes stuck with hers as he bent over just far enough to take the grape with his teeth, letting the tip of his tongue brush her fingers as he did, then standing straight again.

  While he ate the grape he moved with intent around the counter, clasping her arms as he reached to turn her to face him.

  Then he leaned forward again and kissed her—a small, simple, enticing kiss that her head tilted back for before she’d even thought about it.

  When the kiss ended he said, “You don’t need to be up early tomorrow.”

  It was a reminder of the reason she’d given when she’d stopped things the night before in Northbridge.

  “Immy—”

  “I take care of Immy then.”

  “Then you have to be up early.”

  He kissed her again, tracing only the inner edge of her lips with his tongue. And as Kyla drifted away on the way he made her feel, it seemed to cancel everything that had happened between last night and now, and leave her right back where she was then—lost in him...

  When that kiss ended he looked intently into her eyes and said sincerely, “Remember how much I wanted you when I was seventeen?”

  She did. She’d wanted him as much. So much it had been difficult to breathe just thinking about it.

  “A hundred times more right now,” he confessed in a gravelly voice.

  Kyla closed her eyes and asked herself if she was doing the right thing.

  But at that moment it didn’t matter.

  So she opened her eyes to that beautifully chiseled face and said in a hushed voice, “Me, too.”

  “It drowns out everything else,” he confided.

  She nodded.

  “But you have to know—”

  She didn’t know anything other than what was driving her at that moment and before he’d finished his sentence she’d stretched up to silence him with another kiss.

  Then, when she ended that kiss, she said, “Just tonight.”

  His blue eyes searched her face, his brows arched as if to say he wasn’t sure about that. But it also seemed as though she’d hit on what he might have been about to say himself because he nodded as if he agreed a split second before his arms came around her.

  He pulled her into another kiss that had things heating up instantly as mouths opened wide and tongues were nothing but eager.

  So eager they didn’t separate even as Beau swept her up into his arms, even as Kyla gasped in surprise and her own arms went aro
und his neck.

  He carried her out of the kitchen, down the hall, and when he reached the staircase he took the steps two at a time and went straight for the master suite she’d seen when she helped him choose what to wear to the memorial service.

  Once he had her at the foot of his king-size bed he set her on her feet again, mouths still attached and plundering each other with a hunger that seemed to have started long ago and been gaining ground ever since.

  He tore his mouth away from hers to cross his arms over his torso and peel his shirt off while Kyla watched.

  The plantation shutters on the big bay windows that lined two walls of his room were open, letting moonlight flood in. Milky white light bathed him enough for her to see every muscle and something else—an ugly scar on his shoulder.

  She touched it with careful fingertips as if she might hurt him even though it was clearly well healed.

  He took her hand and kissed those fingertips. Then he recaptured her mouth with his to ravage all over again.

  She rested her still-in-a-brace right hand on the side of his waist while her left hand finally got to have its fill of the feel of his bare skin—sleek and warm. Her fingers glided across his broad shoulder, down his biceps, around to a back that was equally grand and so much better without any shirt to hinder her.

  Beau held her face, his thumbs stroking her cheeks before his hands fell to the sides of her neck, then went to her shoulders to massage them in a firm grip.

  But only for a while before he hooked fingers under the straps of her dress.

  It was loose fitting and all it took to drop to her feet was one sweep of those straps down her shoulders, leaving her wearing nothing but bikini panties in front of him.

  Again the kissing stopped so he could blatantly look at her, uttering a sort of guttural growl as his stamp of approval before he spun her around and eased her onto the bed.

  From that vantage point she got to look at him again, too, noting that those sweatpants still rode low on his hips before he dropped them and whatever was underneath them.

  Wow.