Pillow Talk

by Hailey North

  "Sure." Meg wondered what had shifted his mood so abruptly. Had he frightened himself? She certainly had. What was she doing thinking about what type of woman Parker Ponthier might be interested in!

  The door across the hall burst open and Gus sauntered out dressed in his WalMart garb. "At least I've got cable in my room here," he said. He pointed to the yellow finery. "Is this your room?"

  "Yes. And does your room have a bath attached, too?"

  He grimaced. "Sure we can't forget about the bath?"

  "Sorry,” Meg said. "A bath can be a lovely experience. Think of it as pleasure rather than punishment."

  Gus wrinkled his nose. "Sometimes you talk like a teacher," he said. "Is that what you were before you married my dad?"

  "No, but I plan to be a teacher." Which is one of the reasons she had married Jules, ironically enough. She'd hoped to pay off Ted's mountain of debts and have enough to return to college for her degree.

  Gus blew air through his mouth and nose in a rude fashion. "Ho, you don't have to work now. You'll just spend your time drinking martinis and screwing your personal trainer."

  "And not paying attention to Gus?"

  He nodded, then picked at the hem of his sweatshirt. "That's what my mom does. I mean my real mom. And CeCe, too, except she likes women."

  Meg hoped her reaction didn't show. Thankfully, Parker was headed up the hall, her Saks boxes piled high.

  He put them in her room. She said to Gus in a low voice, "I don't drink martinis and I've absolutely no use for a personal trainer."

  "Yeah?" He shrugged. "You'll just find another way to spend your time."

  "Let's go start that bath water and let Meg have a well-deserved rest," Parker said to Gus.

  "You're sure, Parker?" Meg was surprised at how good it felt to hear Parker's name on her lips, and she was also pleased by the way he was jumping in to help with Gus. "I am the one who turned down Horton's services."

  He nodded.

  "Hey, I can take my own bath," Gus said. "I'm not a baby." Looking from Parker to Meg, a crafty grin lit his face. "If I go take a bath right this minute, will you hide me from"—he bugged his eyes out and made a fake sobbing sound—"Teensy!"

  Parker raised his eyes upward, obviously seeking patience. Meg smiled and watched as Parker pointed his nephew across the hall. Gus, carrying on at top volume with his fake boo-hooing, marched, with Parker falling in behind.

  Twenty minutes later, revived by a shower and a quick change of wardrobe, Meg paused at the open door to Gus's room. Parker stood beside one of the twin beds. The bathroom door remained shut and from behind its protective muffling, the booming of a radio pounded.

  As if he sensed her presence, Parker turned from the window. A smile lifting his lips, he said, "Parenting must be a full-time job."

  From the doorway, Meg nodded and said, "Oh, it is!" Then to cover her far too expressive statement, she moved forward into the room and said in a much more subdued voice, "So I'm told."

  He dropped to the edge of the bed. With a rueful smile, he said, "I can't even begin to pretend to know the first thing about helping out with a child. I plead complete ignorance."

  "Oh, it's not so hard to learn," Meg said, approaching the bed.

  "Sugar production, real estate, finance"— Parker grinned, almost mocking himself—"I can master those easily enough, but somehow I've never understood children."

  "Do you want to?" Meg told herself his answer did not matter, yet she knew she lied. Holding her breath, she said, "Do you want to have children of your own?"

  Parker regarded her, a serious, thoughtful expression in his eyes. "You know, I do. But I honestly can't say I'm qualified."

  Meg smiled. "You learn as you go."

  "Perhaps." Then he flashed one of those dangerously seductive smiles, especially seductive because he didn't seem to realize the effect he had on her. "But all that aside, I wish I could do more for Gus."

  "What would you wish for?" Meg had moved so that she stood beside the end of the bed. Parker sat midway up its length.

  He was silent for awhile. The thumping of bass reverberated through the bathroom door. Meg waited for his answer, curious as to what he would say.

  Suddenly, he rose and said, "Where are my manners?" He gestured to the bed and said, "Please, have a seat."

  Meg smothered a smile, but was delighted nonetheless. "Thank you," she said, seating herself primly on the foot of the bed.

  Parker dropped down and the bed bounced softly. Meg felt the movements echoing within her body and wished to the high heavens that his good manners and breeding hadn't asserted themselves. She'd felt much safer standing.

  Slowly, he said, "I'd wish for wisdom, to start with. You showed me the value of that."

  "I did?"

  He nodded. "At the school, then by the way you convinced him to go to WalMart."

  Meg waved a hand, wishing Parker weren't sitting quite so close to her, wishing he didn't look nearly so delectable. "Merely a bit of applied psychology."

  "Hmmm." Parker stared towards the windows, then said, "I'd wish for knowledge."

  "You were a ten-year-old boy yourself," Meg pointed out gently.

  "So I should look within for answers?"

  She nodded. "But wishing is good, too." Feeling more relaxed with him, she turned sideways on the bed so she faced him. Tucking one foot under her, she said, "I believe very much in the power of wishes. Some people think of them as affirmations, but I like to call them wishes. We—" She stopped, realizing what she'd been about to say.

  “We?" Parker leaned closer, his eyes fastened on hers.

  "I"—Meg corrected herself—"I have a tradition involving wishes."

  "And what's that tradition?" Parker asked the question in a low murmur. By this time, he'd moved much too close for comfort. Meg hadn't once seen him scoot or edge over, but the fact was when she looked up at him, her own eyes wide and her heart pumping in response to his nearness, Parker was only inches from her. What she ought to do was wish him away.

  "I call it pillow talk," she said softly, then raised her chin. If he made fun of her now, it wouldn't matter how fast her heart raced in response to him.

  "And it has to do with wishes?"

  She nodded and reminded herself to speak in the singular. She was so used to thinking of herself and her children as a unit that the "we" slipped naturally off her tongue. "Wishes for dreams." Meg pointed to the pillow tucked under the bedspread. Feeling more than a little bit shy, but wanting to share her tradition with him, she said, "If you hand me that pillow, I'll show you the best way to make a wish."

  Without taking his eyes from hers, Parker reached around, yanked the pillow out from beneath the covers, and handed it to her.

  Meg tucked the pillow against her chest. There, at least it would protect her from Parker getting too close. "So, you hold onto the pillow"—Meg began—"and so does…"

  Parker touched the pillow just above where her hand clasped it. "Let me guess," he said in a low voice, "if you're sharing pillow talk with someone, that person holds onto the pillow with you?"

  Meg tightened her grasp on the pillow. As she did, her hand brushed Parker's. "You're pretty smart, aren't you?"

  He shook his head. "No, you're a good teacher." Touching her lightly on the back of her hand, he said, "You led me straight to the answer."

  Meg glanced down to his hand beside hers and in a wild moment of desire, wished the pillow weren't separating their bodies. Then she reined in her imagination. In a controlled voice, she said, "With pillow talk, you could wish to find more ways to spend time with Gus."

  Watching Meg fondle the pillow, Parker stroked the bottom side of Meg's pinky finger. "And can I wish for more than one wish?"

  "One or two," she said, her gaze fastened on his hand. He moved his explorations of her soft skin to the top of her hand, then skimmed her forearm with his palm.

  Before she could consider objecting to his caress, he tucked her hair away from her
cheek, and leaned close to kiss her. His seductive lips hovering above her mouth, he whispered, "And could I wish that I can spend more time with you?"

  She parted her lips, considering her answer. She could feel the heat of him—the expectancy.

  The bathroom door burst open. The radio blasted into the room, as did Gus, wearing only a towel.

  Meg jumped back.

  "Dudes!" Gus grabbed at his towel. "What's a guy have to do to get some privacy around here?" He backed into the bathroom and Meg dropped the pillow on the bed and fled the room.

  Parker picked up the pillow and hugged it.

  From the bathroom, Gus said, "See what happens when you make me take a bath."

  Parker chuckled and left Gus to his privacy. But Meg was indeed a very good teacher; Parker couldn't wait to make some wishes for his dreams.

  After the feelings Parker had aroused in her, Meg felt it was less risky to face Grandfather Ponthier than to remain in Gus's room with Parker. Descending the elegant staircase, Meg tried to compose her expression, but it was tough. The man had gotten to her! Glancing downward, she found a pretty silver-haired woman watching her approach. Remembering she was supposed to be a grieving widow, Meg schooled her features.

  "You must be Jules's widow," the woman said in a well-modulated voice. "I'm Julianne Soniat. Please accept both my felicitations and my condolences."

  "Thank you," Meg said, relieved that the woman wasn't a clone of the harsh-tongued Aunt Mathilde. Even her shower hadn't prepared her to face that member of the Ponthier clan.

  "My grandson Michael went to school with Jules at Country Day. He's out of town but I'm sure he won't miss the wake."

  Meg nodded. When was the wake? She hoped this nice woman wouldn't ask her. And what did one do at a wake, anyway? She'd never been to one as it wasn't a custom observed by the Protestant families she knew in Las Vegas. For Ted, there had been visitation hours at the funeral home, then a graveside service. Perhaps a wake was a New Orleans custom or a practice followed only by Catholics. She'd have to ask Parker.

  "I'm just leaving," the woman said gently. "I'll tell Michael we spoke."

  Meg realized the woman thought she was lost in her sorrow. She repeated her thanks, thinking that if she kept her conversation to those two words she might escape the next few days without committing too many blunders.

  The wheelchair appeared from the direction of the library. "Julianne," Grandfather called, "thank you for coming."

  The woman had been pulling on her gloves. She stopped and turned to face Grandfather, a lively glow sweeping over her face. "Wild horses wouldn't have kept me from your side, Augie."

  Grandfather wheeled to her side. Taking one hand in his good one, he kissed her knuckles.

  "But you'd run away without saying goodnight."

  She tugged on her gloves. "Guilty there."

  Meg recognized personal history when she saw it on stage. Had they been lovers once? Or was it unrequited?

  "Goodnight, Augie, and you too, dear," she said, and walked gracefully toward the door.

  Grandfather shook his head. "What a waste," he muttered.

  "An old flame?"

  "Nosy sort, aren't you?"

  "As Mrs. Soniat said, 'Guilty there.' "

  He shot her a sharp look and wheeled his chair around. "Into the library. Now."

  Eleven

  Parker stood in the shadows, watching Meg follow his grandfather into the library. What were the two of them conferring about? He found himself wanting to know everything about Meg and even considered either joining them or eavesdropping on their discussion.

  Eavesdropping would serve his grandfather a proper turn. The old guy was quite proud of his ability to scope out the moves of his business and familial opponents through exactly that tactic.

  Parker took one step forward, only to find himself stopped in his tracks and stymied in his intent by the arrival of Becca Laisance, the last person he wanted to see at that moment.

  “Parker, I've been looking everywhere for you," she sighed, opening her arms to him, her upper body managing to graze his chest. "You poor, poor dear. Where have you been hiding?"

  Why had he ever invited her to accompany him to that upcoming winter ball? One look at her self-satisfied face after he'd asked her and he'd known immediately he'd made a mistake of monumental proportions.

  The breasts that had helped lead him into that error pressed against him. "I am so, so, sorry about Jules," she cooed, embracing him.

  He patted one hand and extricated himself. “Thank you, Becca," he said. “It's sad but we're coping.''

  “I do hope I can help," she said, far too archly for his taste. He asked himself for the second time why he'd asked her to dinner. Then he remembered he'd needed an escort for a charity dance he hadn't been able to avoid. Thank Teensy for getting him into that one, he said to himself and tried again to produce a smile for the simpering, yet very beautiful Becca Laisance.

  He suddenly remembered he'd asked her to the charity ball right after the lawyer had whipped out that ridiculous release of liability. He'd done it on the rebound. Well, at least that made him feel as if he hadn't quite lost his grip on reality. Smiling broadly, he flicked a lock of blond hair back from her face, and said, “You help just by being your gorgeous self."

  She performed an amazingly agile shimmy and gave him an angelic smile that promised she could behave very much like the devil herself. Amazed that he found himself unmoved by her performance, Parker said, "Have you seen Gus?"

  "Gus?" She twirled her hair with one long ruby-tipped finger.

  "My nephew," he said briefly, hoping Gus hadn't fallen into Teensy's clutches. There was no telling what crime the kid would commit in order to free himself from that fate.

  "Jules's little boy?" She looked at him, all wide-eyed. "He's here?"

  He nodded, glancing around and moving them into the center of the hall, then closer toward the Great Parlor. He longed to do whatever it took to edge them towards the library, but he sensed Meg wouldn't be too receptive if she discovered him with Becca in tow.

  "I thought he was away at school." She pouted and stopped twirling her hair long enough to sneak a glance at the diamond-studded watch on her right wrist. "Want to escape for awhile?"

  He shook his head. "He was at St. Suplicius but we brought him home tonight."

  "We?" She went back to twirling her hair.

  "We. Yours truly, with help from Jules's widow."

  Becca laughed. "I can't believe anyone Jules married is capable of giving help to anyone!"

  Parker stared at her. A dark cloud rose in his mind. "By the way," he said slowly, "remember that charity event I asked you to attend with me? I won't be going, on account of Jules's funeral."

  “Oh, no." She really pouted this time. "And I was so looking forward to it."

  "It just wouldn't be right, though, would it?" He knew his mouth had formed a grim line.

  She completely missed the nonverbal cue. Tapping him on the chest, she whispered, "I'll make it up to you. Our own private charity event."

  Out of habit, he flashed her a smile. "I'll take a rain check," he said, stepping back and turning away.

  Straight into the path of Meg, who'd been standing behind him for who only knew how long.

  Her eyes were bright, and Parker knew instinctively the image was caused by unshed tears. Continuing in her approach, she held out a hand and said in a throaty voice he didn't recognize, "Parker, introduce me to your friend?"

  Ooh, she was mad. Parker hadn't been born yesterday. Either grandfather had done it to her, or she'd been listening in on Becca's attempts to woo him. Amazed at his own selfconfession, he hoped fervently that it was the latter that had her riled up.

  "Becca Laisance, Margaret Ponthier." For whatever reason, he used her formal name.

  Meg smiled and held out a hand. "How do you do, Miss Laisance?" It was the first time Parker hadn't heard her say, "Call me Meg, please."

  Becca nodde
d, not deigning to lift her own hand. "So sorry to hear about Jules. I guess you'll be going back home soon, since he's not with us anymore?"

  Meg fluttered her lashes and sighed.

  Parker almost laughed out loud.

  Meg said, "Why, I haven't decided. I think that's up to the family. You understand that, don't you? I've just been having the most heart-warming chat with Grandfather Ponthier." She smiled up at Parker. "He's so happy we brought Gus home with us."

  Becca practically glowered. Parker knew Meg was putting on a show, but instead of being annoyed he was enjoying the performance. It served Becca right. He hadn't even been on date one with the woman and she'd been acting as if she were God's gift to Parker A. Ponthier.

  And the only gift Parker wanted, he realized with a searing flash of insight, was the chance to get to know Margaret "Call me Meg, please" Ponthier a whole lot better.

  Meg stared at the retreating backside of the blonde, too embarrassed to let Parker see her face. If Grandfather hadn't gotten her so worked up, surely she wouldn't have carried on like that. But that woman wasn't a good-hearted sort. Meg had heard what she'd said about Jules.

  "I guess I owe you yet another thanks," Parker said.

  "You do?”

  He tipped his head in the direction of the blonde. "Meg's search and rescue.”

  She smiled but said, "I'm sure you can fend for yourself with the opposite sex.”

  "Some days I'm not so sure," he said, his blue eyes fixed on her face. "Did you and grandfather come to terms?”

  Meg shifted her gaze to her feet and studied the conservative black pumps she'd worn for the first time that day. She'd never owned shoes so plain or boring in her life, but Jules had dressed her for the role he'd hired her to play. Staring at the shoes reminded her to toe the line and escape with her emotions intact. "We talked about the funeral,” she said.

  Sadness settled into his eyes.

  Meg reached out and squeezed his hand. "You've had a hard day, too, you know.”

  He not only accepted her touch this time, but returned the gentle pressure on her hand.