Pillow Talk

by Hailey North

  Parker picked up his pace when Meg's voice took on that firm, no-nonsense tone. He moved along with the kids as they followed her out of the tent, collected the picnic remains, and trooped to the kitchen where Meg directed them in cleaning up their mess.

  Nibbling on some of the leftover popcorn, Parker forgot about his earlier hunger. Now the only thing he wanted to do was watch Meg in action. But after she put the kids to bed, he wanted some answers.

  Truthfully, he wanted some action. He'd wanted her earlier and he wanted her still. When she'd settled beside him in the tent, just the subtle brush of her leg against his heated him beyond bearing, it was all he could do to concentrate on the game playing.

  The game he wanted to play had nothing to do with children. Meg's offspring, to be sure, were an unexpected complication, but nothing he couldn't handle. For Meg, he could manage a lot.

  He hadn't even known she'd had children. She'd mentioned another deceased husband. The children must be from that marriage. He couldn't believe otherwise. Despite her hasty nuptials with Jules, she didn't seem the type of woman to bear children out of wedlock. That all three of the kids had the same father he had to believe; their coloring mimicked hers, but the family resemblance was strong in ways that didn't match Meg's looks. For instance, all the kids were tall, even the youngest, and Meg barely topped Parker's chest.

  Parker's musings were interrupted by Gus, noisily balking at being required to wash his milk glass. "The maid does that," he said, indignant.

  "Did the maid drink out of it?" Meg asked without emphasizing the question too strongly. She was busy guiding Teddy away from the cookie jar.

  "That's a stupid question," Gus said.

  "And that's a stupid answer," Meg responded. "Now, rinse your glass, then put it in the dishwasher."

  Parker waited for the refrain he expected to hear: Ponthiers don't do dishes. But instead, Gus joined the others at the sink.

  Would miracles never cease? Parker tried to catch Meg's eye but she was having none of that. He pulled a glass from a cupboard, crossed to one of the two refrigerators, and poured himself a glass of milk. Unbidden, the image of Meg clutching her mug of warm milk to her breasts filled his mind. He sucked in a breath and chugged down the milk.

  Maybe she'd notice him if he washed his glass, too. Parker joined the kids at the sink, but they'd all finished. Gus looked at him as if lie wasn't quite sure what to make of his uncle rinsing his glass. Parker gave him an encouraging smile.

  Meg said, "Okay, everybody upstairs, brush your teeth, and I'll meet you in my room."

  Gus hung back. Jem, caught between loyalty to his savior and the other kids' racing out the door, dashed out, then returned to lick Gus's hand.

  Meg walked over to him. "You, too, Gus," she said softly.

  "I still don't hold with that sissy stuff."

  "That's okay, but you can listen if you'd like."

  Gus shrugged. He'd pulled his pocketknife from the deep trousers of his baggy shorts. Snapping it open, he said, "What if I made a dream wish. Would it work for me?"

  Meg seemed to consider her answer. As she did, Parker admitted to himself he wanted to wish for Meg in his life—and that he was willing to make that dream come true. He nodded at his nephew just as Meg said, "Let's try it."

  Gus bobbed his head, then loped out the door, Jem tagging behind.

  "Whatever you just did," Parker said, "was smart. And wise."

  "Really?" She looked at him, as cool as the proverbial cucumber. "I do find it's never wise to make promises to a child one isn't sure will be kept."

  Parker regarded her. Wow, but she was mad at him. Had he been that insufferable the other night? Or was she just being prickly to keep him from asking her where the kids had materialized from?

  Before he could ask any of his questions, she sashayed from the room.

  He took his time following her. First he dropped by the Great Parlor. To his surprise, he found Grandfather still up, sitting beside a fire playing chess with a woman Parker had never seen before. A huge gray cat, most definitely a stranger to Ponthier Place, was curled on Grandfather's lap.

  When Parker stuck his head in, Grandfather rumbled, "Come in and meet Mrs. Fenniston but don't disturb my concentration. The woman's hell on wheels with her rooks."

  Parker looked with interest at the dainty silver-haired woman seated opposite his grandfather. He'd never heard such a compliment from the old man. For years his grandfather had told him he couldn't wield a pawn properly, let alone a bishop or a rook.

  He nodded. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Parker Ponthier.”

  The woman smiled. "Mrs. Fenniston. Delighted to meet you. I'm making my first visit to your city and your grandfather is making me feel so at home.”

  Parker wasn't sure what to say in response to that. Being browbeaten over a chess game wasn't Parker's idea of seeing his beloved city. But now that he thought about it, Meg had scarcely seen any of the city he called home. He'd have to remedy that. Maybe that would soften her up. Not that he was trying to soften her up, he corrected himself. But if he had to conduct business with the woman, he should get to know her better.

  "Did you meet the children?” Mrs. Fenniston asked, one fingertip stroking the white bishop.

  Grandfather glared at the board. Parker figured he either disliked the subject of the little hooligans or Mrs. Fenniston had just figured out how to best him on the chessboard.

  Parker nodded.

  "They are exceptional,” she said. "And sweet Meg has done such a marvelous job with them. And under such difficult circumstances."

  "Her husband,” Parker asked, unable to control his curiosity. "When did he…"

  "Pass on?” Mrs. Fenniston whisked her bishop diagonally across the board. "Check,", she said.

  The look on his grandfather's face was priceless.

  "More than a year ago. And such troubles she's faced with never a whimper." Mrs. Fenniston sighed. "It's made me happy to be able to help her. Especially since my dear husband's been gone more than a year now."

  "A year, is it?" Grandfather shot the question out.

  Parker smiled. He'd learned what he wanted to know. Apparently so had his grandfather. "I'll let you two finish your game," he said. "Nice to meet you."

  Mrs. Fenniston smiled at Parker. "There, Mr. Ponthier, look what I've done to your queen," she was saying, as Parker backed from the room.

  The door to Meg's room stood ajar, almost as if she knew he wouldn't be able to resist sharing their bedtime pillow talk.

  Which Parker found himself powerless to do, even though he remained in the hall, just outside, listening. And as he listened, he remembered how good he'd felt sitting beside her on Gus's bed as she explained pillow talk to him. He'd wanted to kiss her then and he wanted to kiss her now.

  He heard the gentle thump of Jem's tail against the floor. Farther away, but quite distinguishable, he made out the voices of Meg and the children.

  "What are your dream wishes, Samantha?"

  He could picture her smoothing the little girl's mass of curls as she asked the question.

  "A dress-up Barbie and a new daddy," she said.

  There was no immediate response, then Parker heard Meg say, "We'll see what we can do about the Barbie. How about we start with making a new outfit for the one you brought with you?"

  "Okay," murmured a sleepy-sounding Samantha.

  Parker had to hand it to Meg. She'd neatly sidestepped the second request.

  "And you, Teddy?"

  "Tomorrow we get to play war."

  "Hah," Ellen said. "Boys are so stupid."

  "Hey, speak for yourself," Gus piped up.

  "Shh," Meg said. "This is pillow talk. It's okay to ask for what you want, because knowing what you want in life is the first step to achieving it."

  "You're sure smart," Ellen said.

  "Thank you, sweetie. Gus, do you want to share?"

  A long silence followed. Parker held his breath, wondering whether his n
ephew would join in. Hell, he wanted to join in. He wanted to curl up on the bed beside Meg and her children and wrap his arms around her loving body and whisper just what he wished he could have.

  But he, Parker Ponthier, was a grownup.

  Pillow talk was for kids.

  "Nah," Gus said at last. "Fairy tales are just as bogus as Santa Claus. And most mothers."

  Parker sucked in a sharp breath, his heart breaking for Gus. Marianne was such a bitch. It was just like her to dally in Switzerland when Gus was home suffering. He leaned forward, wondering what in the world Meg would say to Gus's comment.

  Before Meg spoke, he heard the younger girl say in a sleepy voice, "You can share our Mom. She's not bogus."

  "That's very sweet, Samantha," Meg said. "Teddy? Ellen?"

  "As long as we get to play war tomorrow."

  "That makes you sort of my brother," the older girl said. "Which is okay as long as you do what I say."

  Parker thought he heard Meg sigh.

  "Forget that!" Gus said.

  "Yeah," Teddy said. "But now at least it's two against two for awhile."

  A round of high-fiving took place, punctuated by Jem's high-pitched yelps.

  A few minutes later, Meg appeared in the doorway, an arm around Teddy. Gus hung to the side, but he looked much less withdrawn than he had the past few days. Meg saw Parker and glanced at him, confusion on her face.

  "I confess," Parker said. "I was eavesdropping. Want some help?”

  "I don't—" She glanced at Gus. "Sure. Tuck the boys in for me, will you?"

  Just like that, he found himself walking them across the hall. He watched as they climbed into the twin beds in Gus's room, then he moved over beside Gus's bed, unsure of what to do next. He had no idea how to tuck a child in.

  He saw Meg had joined him on the opposite side of Teddy's bed. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Sleep tight and don't—"

  "—let the bed bugs bite," Teddy finished for her. "I love you, Mom," he said, then seemed to fall asleep immediately. Meg remained beside him, stroking his hair.

  Gus looked up at him, all seriousness. "Do you believe in all that make-a-wish stuff?”

  Parker glanced over at Meg. In the dim glow of the bedside lamp, she shimmered between shadow and light.

  "Well, do you?"

  Parker smiled at Gus and nodded. "Dreams do come true. Wishes do get answered. And sometimes even the frog turns into a prince."

  He looked down at Gus, who was watching him as if he wanted to believe in what Parker said. Stooping, Parker brushed his lips across his nephew's forehead. "Goodnight,” he said.

  Gus smiled. "Thanks, Uncle Parker."

  Meg walked over and blew a goodnight kiss to Gus. Then she moved quietly from the room Parker followed, admiring her quiet dignity.

  "No wonder you've known how to deal with Gus."

  She gazed back, still not saying anything.

  Parker wanted to take her in his arms and beg her forgiveness. He couldn't quite figure out why, because only two nights ago he'd thought she was the one who owed him a huge apology.

  But tonight was different. "Come downstairs with me?"

  She started to shake her head. He sensed she was going to flee from him.

  So he said the word a Ponthier rarely uttered. "Please?"

  Eighteen

  If Parker only knew what that word coming from his lips meant to her. Almost shyly, she smiled at him, then reminded herself she had too much pride to swoon into his arms at the slightest softening of his stance towards her. But for a man who'd just had three young children foisted on him, he was asking awfully nicely.

  Reason and common sense told her to say goodnight and tuck herself in.

  Desire and the beckoning of temptation urged her to match his steps as he moved down the hallway and towards the staircase.

  Desire and temptation won.

  Halfway downstairs, he said, "Did you meet Grandfather's new chess partner?”

  "You mean Mrs. Fenniston." Meg was surprised he hadn't yet asked her about the children. "She's my friend from Las Vegas who was staying with my children."

  He looked at her with curiosity. They were crossing the foyer and heading back to the library. "Did my brother know?"

  "About my children?"

  He nodded.

  So did Meg. The less said the better.

  "Jules must have been a changed man." Hr said it softly, with a corresponding softening of the normally solemn lines around his mouth.

  He paused at the doorway to the library Meg preceded him. "They do make a rumpus, don't they?" The usually pristine room was a shambles. But with the severe order disturbed, it looked much more comfortable and welcoming.

  Meg followed Parker as he crossed to one of the two loveseats in front of the fire. The cushions from the one they'd shared the other evening lay on the floor inside the children's tent. She observed how naturally they moved together. They might be any couple relaxing after settling the children to sleep for the night.

  A wave of emotion overcame her. Ted had worked so many late hours she'd been the one to put the kids to bed, the one who'd created their pillow talk tradition. Tonight with Parker had given her a glimpse of an impossible dream.

  Meg forced herself to look across the room to the computer atop the large desk. Parker was just as much a workaholic as Ted. He couldn't have come back to the house much before nine, if that early. He'd been kind to join in tonight, but she knew better than to build any castles in the clouds.

  She settled on the far end of the loveseat and tucked her feet under her. Mrs. Fenniston, bless her heart, had brought some of Meg's clothes, Including her favorite purple tights and over-sized Goofy t-shirt. The look was quite at odds with the loveseat's silk tapestry pulled tight against the ornate carving, but Meg felt safe in her comfortable at-home wear.

  Parker sat on one of the two cushions of the loveseat. Giving his cuffs another turn and not quite looking at her, he said, “I've learned a lot from you tonight."

  "You have?" His comment surprised Meg. She kept waiting for him to quiz her more on the kids and her plans. Fie didn't strike her as one to leave other people's business alone, not when it overlapped with his. He was, after all, a Ponthier.

  He turned toward her, one arm sliding against the back of the loveseat. Meg caught her breath, the intimacy of the other night crowding into her mind. She yearned to lean over and accept his embrace, but pride held her back. Rejection hurt. Badly.

  Parker lay his hand behind her shoulder without touching her. He'd sensed her stiffen slightly and knew she wasn't ready for his touch. He'd been such a jerk the other night he couldn't blame her. The same way he couldn't blame Jules for falling for a woman this sweet and innocent. So different from any other woman he'd ever known.

  "I've learned why you've been so good with Gus. I should have guessed you had children. No one else would have known how to handle him."

  "That's not necessarily logical," Meg said, twirling a finger around a long lock of her hair He wondered if she had any idea what that gesture did to him.

  "No?" He murmured the question, not wanting to argue logic. He'd far rather slide his arm down the loveseat and around her shoulders. But he bided his time. "Evidently his mother doesn't know how to handle him."

  "True," Parker said. "Well, I guess I should know good parenting isn't genetic and doesn't arrive along with the child." He managed to keep any residual harshness from his voice, he'd long ago given up on Teensy.

  What concerned him now was the shadow that crossed Meg's face. Parker knew he'd stirred some very deep wounds. Leaning forward, he caught her free hand in his. "Did I say the wrong thing?"

  "It's okay," she said, but to his relief, she didn't withdraw her hand. "Being an orphan, I guess I can't help but react to that statement. I've dealt with the issue but still sometimes I wonder why my parents gave me up. But there are many, many men and women who should never be parents. So, no, it's not something that come
s along with the baby."

  He stroked her hand. "I'm sorry for that pain, but you are a wonderful mother."

  "Thank you," she said, tugging gently at her hand.

  "Do you want me to let go?"

  She raised her eyes to his. In her frank way, he watched him as she obviously considered the question. Then, a gentle smile curving her mouth, she said, "No, not really."

  He turned her hand over and traced the long line curving from her wrist towards her index finger. "You also taught me about make-believe tonight."

  "I did?"

  Parker lifted her hand and brushed his lips across the tips of her fingers. She quivered in response. He dropped his other arm around her shoulders and eased her closer. She was skittish and unpredictable and the last thing he wanted to do was scare her off tonight.

  "Am I imagining that you're about to kiss me?" She whispered the words and turned her face upwards as she spoke.

  "That part"—Parker said as he lowered his face to hers—"would not be make-believe."

  Her kiss was sweeter than any he could imagine. Sweet but with that innocent hesitation he found so appealing. But as he traced the line of her lips with his tongue and pulled her more tightly to him, her hesitation disappeared.

  Her lips parted and he forced himself to claim her mouth oh-so-slowly. Their tongue;. danced and he heard her sigh. Parker cupped the back of her head with one hand and rode the kiss until the strength of his passionate reaction to her forced him to stop. If he didn't pull away he'd take her right there on the love seat with the door wide open.

  When he released her mouth, she gazed up at him, eyes dark and wondering. "Oh, my," she said. "Are you sure that wasn't make believe?"

  He shook his head. Taking her hand again, he said in a low voice, "Do you mind if I close that door one more time?"

  She licked her lips. Obviously she understood what he was really asking. Would she take this chance to excuse herself? Remind him that he was the one who'd pushed her aside when they'd been this close once before? Hell, he ought to be the one reminding himself of all the reasons he should flee the room, but right now, watching her eyes glowing with passion and her lips rosy and moist from his kiss, reason was the last thing on his mind.