Mira sighed. “I’m just unsure about so many things. This is all new to me. Please understand. I never want to be hurt again.”
His throat constricted at her confession. So she did love him, but she still didn’t trust him not to break her heart. Somehow it didn’t make him feel any better. How could he ever break through?
He had to trust that the plans he’d set in motion would convince her of his love.
Mira heated two mugs filled with water in the microwave, then dumped the contents of each cocoa package into a steaming cup and stirred. Armand waited by silently, then plopped a generous helping of plump marshmallows into each mug, put them on a tray and carried them to the porch.
“You drink cocoa a lot I’ve noticed,” he said as he took a seat beside her on the settee.
“Sometimes when I awaken in the middle of the night and can’t sleep, I make a cup. I sit here on the porch a while, sip the warm chocolate—my midnight craving—and listen to the waves.”
“I want to be your midnight craving, Mira, the one you turn to in dark, lonely hours of the night.”
She bit down on her lip, her heart pounding in her chest as his sensual words washed over her. She wished it could be, too, but that wasn’t the reality of her situation. He was a high profile author with a brilliant career, and she was a woman with a seaside inn to run thousands of miles away from his home base in L.A—not to mention the addition of Jocelyn’s four active children to her life.
They both had their futures already planned out. Armand would never be satisfied with a long distance relationship with a single mom of four children for long. He was a damned good looking man, and there would always be temptations for him. She turned to look at him in the moonlight, his handsome face somber and cast in deep shadows.
“Do you remember what I asked you a week and a half ago, Mira?” he asked.
She did. He’d proposed marriage. “Were you really serious?”
He took a sip of his cocoa and set it on the table beside him. “Of course not. I always propose to women whom I’ve known for little more than a week.”
Smart aleck. “Exactly how many women have you proposed to?” she ventured.
“None, until you.”
Mira lifted a brow, finding that difficult to believe. She’d read once in a tabloid that he’d been engaged to at least two different super models. A female rock singer also once claimed he’d fathered her love child. She doubted the stories were true. “Then why me? Why thirty two year old Mira Reece who lives all alone in a rambling old bed and breakfast on an island with twenty two cats—half of whom aren’t even hers?”
His eyes went wide. “The cats aren’t yours?”
She shook her head. “Only eight or ten. The rest are strays.”
He sat forward in his seat. “Why do you feed them all?”
“They have no one else to care for them. They need me.”
“I need you, Mira.”
Mira’s breath caught at the intensity of those three words. “We can’t get married, Armand.”
“But we can.”
“There are complications.”
“Oh bloody hell!” he thundered out, nearly causing her to spill her hot drink. “You and your complications again. Mira, if you keep complicating everything with excuses why you can’t do this or that you’ll eventually talk yourself out of even simple pleasures.”
She sat ramrod straight in the chair. She’d never seen him so enraged. Or so handsome. But he was right. She’d made excuses for not living for far too long. “All right, answer this question. How do you feel about my taking permanent custody of Jocelyn’s kids?”
“We’ll raise them together.”
She gaped at him. Surely he wasn’t serious? “I can’t ask you to be a father to these children.”
He growled. “You’re not asking me to do anything I don’t want to do. Don’t you think I’ve considered the circumstances surrounding your nieces and nephews?”
Actually, she wasn’t certain he had. Four children—an instant family—would be quite a responsibility for a man who’d remained single, apparently by choice. “You hardly know the children.”
“We’ll remedy that in time. At least they like me, which is a grand start. Besides,” he added with a wink, young Devin and I are kindred spirits. We’re both hairy in a certain department which I have pinky sworn never to disclose.”
Mira burst out laughing. “Oh, Armand, did he tell you he had hair on his butt?”
Armand chuckled. “That he did, and upon our first meeting, too. He’s quite a candid lad.”
“He tells everyone that. I don’t know how to break him of the habit.”
“Don’t even try. He’s absolutely adorable.”
She shook her head. “What about your career as a novelist?”
“My writing career does not end simply because I marry. I will continue to write and fulfill my contracts.”
“But you live thousands of miles away from here in LA. I can’t sell the Inn. It was my grandmother’s house. She entrusted it to me.”
His fingertips gently stroked her cheek. “And I would never ask you to give up a home that means so much to you.”
“But what about your house in Los Angeles?”
He sat back and swiped a hand down his face. “Oh, sweet, sweet, Mira, I have a confession to make. I sold my home last week.”
“You what?”
He nodded. “It’s true. I’m officially homeless and at your mercy.”
“Armand!”
“And my housekeeper, Helen, has agreed to live with us. She’ll assist with caring for the children.” He took her hand in his and squeezed gently. “Helen makes the best English shortbread cookies, but you must watch her with your old skivvies. She has a tendency to toss them to the trash. You’ll see, Mira. It will work.”
“Oh my God, Armand. You’d do that for me? Sell your home and move across the country to help me raise four children?”
“Mira, my house in Los Angeles is not a home without the beautiful, vibrant woman I love more than anything in the world.”
Mira bit down on her lip to keep from crying. Armand did love her. And he was willing to give up everything to make her and the children happy. Even still, they’d only known one another an extremely short amount of time. Sure the sex was fabulous, but what happened when the passion faded, or when the kids got on his last raw nerve and fatherhood and marriage didn’t live up to his expectations?
“You realize it won’t be easy.”
“I do.”
“I can also be an impossible woman to live with. I’m a neat freak.”
He chuckled. “Then perhaps you’ve met your match in me. So am I.”
She nibbled her lower lip. She was insane to seriously consider his marriage proposal. It was wild and crazy and . . . oddly, right.
“Do I have a yes, sweet Mira?”
Her heart pounding, she held her breath for the space of several seconds. “Yes,” she answered at last and launched herself into his arms. “Yes, yes, yes, I’ll marry you Armand Giancarlo.”
Cheers erupted from the doorway.
Mira turned, her mouth gaping open as four little faces beamed smiles at them.
“He’s gonna be our new Uncle!” Devin cried, and raced toward them.
Mira extracted herself from Armand’s embrace moments before Devin climbed into Armand’s lap.
Katie hurried over and snuck a peck to his cheek and Hannah followed, tugging Joseph Junior’s hand. The kids dog piled him, pressed Armand to the floor and tickled him mercilessly.
The girls showered him with sloppy puppy kisses on his cheeks until he begged for mercy between deep rumbles of laughter.
When they finally let him up for air, he looked at Mira. “Thank heaven you came to your senses, woman. For a moment, I thought I’d bought a beautiful wedding gown, rings, and planned and paid for a lavish ceremony for nothing.”
Her jaw dropped as she processed his words. “What a
re you talking about?”
“The wedding party you booked last night. It’s ours, Mira. Our wedding. One to rival even the most extravagant royal weddings.”
“What? No. Are you serious? A wedding?”
He struggled to sit, even as the children were still hugging him. “Yes, a wedding! And I’ve ordered the most stunning dress, Mira—pristine white, embellished with natural Pacific pearls and Austrian crystals and a silk veil. A long time friend and fashion designer, Henri du Paris has a size three—your size. Sorry, my love, but I peeked in your closet while you were out the other afternoon. The dress should arrive by special courier any day. And you should see the rings I’m having custom designed for you.”
Mira snapped her mouth shut once she realized she must be catching gnats. “You bought me a wedding gown? Rings?”
“The most beautiful ones I could find…for the most beautiful woman in the world.”
Tears choked her. She barely heard much of what followed, except that most of Armand’s family was arriving from both England and France the following week. Something also about his publicist, a few authors and his editor at Devondale.
When the blood flow returned to her brain she heard him say, “Oh, and I hope you don’t mind but I took the liberty of inviting everyone in your address book.” He clicked his tongue. “Really, darling you shouldn’t leave your personal information lying around for just anyone to get their hands on.”
Mira was both speechless and numb, stunned by the revelation. Armand had planned a wedding and invited guests before she’d even accepted his proposal. She didn’t know whether to slap his handsome face or kiss him silly. She also didn’t realize she’d spilled hot cocoa down her shin and it was running into her sneaker until feeling reentered her body. “Oh, crap! Ouch, ouch!”
Armand grabbed a tea towel from the tray and quickly blotted the mess on her clothing.
“Aunt Mee Mee burned herself!” Katie cried.
“I’m fine, really,” Mira said, taking the towel from Armand’s hand. Their gazes locked and he broke into a devastatingly sensual grin that completely disarmed her. The burn from the hot liquid ceased to exist as he leaned closer, bringing his lips to within a hair’s breadth of her own.
“God, but I love you woman,” he whispered.
Tears blurred her vision and her throat constricted as she struggled to say the words that would finally free her from the past. “I love you, too.”
She heard his sharp intake of breath and she slipped her arms around his neck to draw him close, the man she loved with all her heart.
“Ewww, I think they’re gonna kiss now,” Hannah said. “We’d better go to our rooms, you guys, before things get disgusting.”
The sound of the children’s laughter faded when Armand’s lips touched hers again. For a moment, the world around them ceased to exist and the dark cloud that hovered over Mira’s life for the past fifteen years lifted.
Mira poured all her love into the kiss, pressing her body to Armand’s, feeling the pounding of his heartbeat mingling with hers.
“Oh, and one more quick thing, my darling, I’ve asked my attorney to draft adoption papers for the children as soon as we are married.”
“But there’s really no need for all that formality. You’ll become their uncle when we marry.”
“No. I will not be their Uncle. Nor can you remain their Aunt Mee Mee. They will call us “mommy” and “daddy.” These children need stability, Mira. Real parents. A happy home. We can give it to them. Just think—the six of us will all be the Giancarlo family.”
Epilogue
Three months later….
“Daddy…daddy! Come quick! Mommy’s dying!”
Armand bolted upright in the bed and faced off four wide-eyed children. The two youngest boys sported chocolate milk moustaches with brown splotchy dribbles down the front of their white T-shirts. “Dying? What the devil?” He reached beneath the covers, relieved to find he’d donned his pajama bottoms after a particularly passionate night with Mira.
“Mommy’s….dying,” Katy said, hiccupping through her sobs as huge tears rolled down her face.
Devin began to cry, as did Hannah. Joseph was preoccupied with a crusty yellow booger on his fingertip.
Armand pulled the sobbing Katy into his arms and gave her a brief hug. “Not to fear my little Katydid. Daddy will take care of mommy at once.” He climbed out of bed and reached for a robe. “Where is she?”
“On the…b-bathroom floor. ” Katy boo-hooed. “Her guts are…coming up.” Devin and Hannah broke into wails.
Armand’s heart seized in his chest. God in heaven, what could have happened to make her ill? “Mira!” he called out but she didn’t answer. Without bothering to don the robe he dashed across the room in six long strides to find Mira kneeling before the porcelain throne. “Darling, what is the matter?”
“Go away.” She clutched the bowl and wretched into it again.
Although his stomach flip-flopped at the particularly grotesque display, he reached for a cloth and moistened it. “Here,” he said as he squatted beside her. “Allow me to bathe my girl’s beautiful face.”
“No! I’m sick and disgusting right now. Please, Armand…just go.”
“I knew I shouldn’t have added that extra dash of curry to last night’s chicken. It was a tad spicy.”
“It’s not the dinner you prepared.” She lifted a weary hand and pointed to the sink. “Look…the stick on the counter.”
He rose and glanced to a white plastic stick with a pink stripe in the center, then picked it up. Where had he seen one of those before?
On a television commercial.
His gaze met hers once again. “Is this…”
“Yes,” Mira groaned.
“Nooo.”
“Yes,” Mira clutched a hand to her stomach. “I’m pregnant.”
The test stick fell from his grip and clattered to the tile floor. “Pregnant?” His mind whirled as a dozen questions hit him at once. How? When? Wait, she’d said she couldn’t get pregnant, yet she was. They’d need a crib. Diapers. Rattles and bottles and booties and blankets. And a kettle of boiling water. They always needed boiling water in the movies.
A giddy chuckle escaped his lips. “But…the doctors…”
“I guess the doctors were wrong.”
“How long have you known?”
She shrugged. “I’ve suspected something’s been up for a week. I decided to get a test kit and check. Are you angry with me?”
“Angry? Bloody hell no! This is the most delightful news of my life! But we must get you checked out soon to make certain you’re all right.”
After bathing her face and combing her hair, Armand lifted Mira into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. Joseph was chewing suspiciously on something and Devin, Hannah, and Katy’s eyes were red-rimmed, although the sobbing had ceased.
“Mommy’s all right, children. No need to worry anymore,” he announced.
Katy sniffed hard. “But she lost all her guts.”
Hannah punched Katy in the arm. “Mommy didn’t lose her guts. If she did, she wouldn’t be alive.”
Devin stopped sniffling. “Is mommy gonna live?”
“Yes,” Armand answered, “and guess what else?”
Mira stifled Armand’s words with a fingertip to his lips and whispered, “Right now, this is between you and me, just in case.”
He nodded in understanding, although his joy was difficult to contain. She’d lost one child and didn’t want to disappoint the children. “Nothing bad will ever happen again,” he whispered to her, adding, “but I will honor your wishes for now.”
He laid Mira on the bed and climbed in beside her, the children snuggling all around.
“Our bed is getting crowded with all these little Giancarlos,” he mused. “Why, in a few months we’ll probably have to get a larger one.”
“Armand.” Her voice held a stern warning.
He couldn’t resist: “Did you kn
ow that quadruplets run in my family?”
Mira made a face. ‘They do not.”
“Droopits?” Devin asked. “What’s a droopit?”
“Joseph’s soggy diaper,” Hanna quipped.
Everyone chuckled except for Joseph.
“Quadruplets are four babies born at the same time,” Armand explained.
Katy perked up. “Where do babies come from?”
“From their mommy’s belly…duh,” the quick-witted Hanna responded with a roll of the eyes. “Everyone knows that.”
“But how does the baby get inside the momma?”
Mira cleared her throat. “All right you guys, that’s enough talk about babies. What do you say we settle down and talk about breakfast? Who wants funny bunny pancakes and very berry syrup?”
“Me!” the four children sang out in unison.
“And piggies in blankets, too!” Armand added.
“Then go to your rooms and wash up and meet me and daddy downstairs in the kitchen in ten minutes.”
The squealing children leapt from the bed and made a mad scramble out the door.
“And get dressed in your swimsuits” she called. “We’re going shell hunting on the beach afterward.”
Armand stroked Mira’s cheek and she leaned into his loving touch.
“You’re not angry that I’m pregnant?”
“Why would I be angry? It’s a beautiful miracle. I’m ecstatic.”
“What are we going to do with five children, Armand?”
“We’re going to love them—each and every one.” He attempted to drop a kiss on her lips but she turned her face away.
“Um, not a good idea.”
“Be silent, you sexy woman,” he said as he cradled her face in his hands. “If you’ll recall I promised to love and cherish you, in sickness and in health, for better for worse….” He turned his face away when he caught a whiff of her sour breath. “Ah, perhaps you’re right on that last account.”
“And to think that I almost walked away because I was afraid to love you. Promise me I’m not going to awaken and find out it’s all been a dream and that none of this has been real.”
Midnight Craving (Contemporary Romance) Page 11