She nodded. “By the time you finish, I’ll have this last one ready to go.”
They took the boxes home and Ryan enlisted Finn’s help to carry them upstairs and unpack everything. Then he left for his office, telling her he had a few pressing things he needed to check. The trip had worn her out, and Jessie was happy to rest as Finn arranged her garments in the great big closet.
“Hey, girlfriend,” he said, holding up a straight black cocktail dress. “Dynamite. I bet you look hot in this.”
She grinned. “I brought it because it has no waistline and I thought if we had to go to anything formal in the next few months I might still be able to wear it.”
“Ha.” Finn eyed the small mound of her belly beneath the covers. “At the rate you’re growing, you aren’t going to be wearing anything but tents in a couple of months.”
“Thanks loads. You’re such a comfort.”
“My pleasure.”
She and Ryan’s manservant, if that’s what one called Finn, had reached an easy accord that delighted her. On the days she was home all day he’d begun showing her around the house, getting her acquainted slowly with the sizable rooms and their contents. He played games with her, cards and board games, which she let him win just enough to keep him happy, and they’d taken to watching one of the more ridiculous talk shows over the noon hour and commenting on the guests’ dramatic problems.
He was a bit like a mother hen, fussing her to rest, fixing special meals and generally coddling her until she had to tell him to relax. She adored him.
“Finn?” she said.
“Hmm?” He was folding sweaters and zipping them into acrylic bags.
“Do you like children?”
He came out of the closet and sat on the edge of the bed. “I think so. I’ve never really been around them very much. I was an only child.”
“So was I. What I know about babies would fit on the head of a pin.”
He grinned, his boyish face lighting up. “Hope you learn fast.”
“Me, too.” She hesitated. “Are you going to stay when there are two little terrors ripping through this place breaking vases and tracking in muddy footprints?”
He looked at her. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
She nodded. “Ryan depends on you. And so do I. I won’t begin to have time to run a household of this size with two children and my gallery.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Finn’s slender fingers lightly brushed over the soft cashmere of the sweater he still held. “Ryan’s wonderful. He’s kind and…tolerant. He gave me a chance when I desperately needed one and I’ll never forget that.” He looked at her, his eyes sober. “I have a high school education. My partner was ten years older, well-off, sophisticated…I never needed to work. Then he got sick, and when he died, I was lost. No skills, no one to care for…when my aunt told me Ryan was willing to give me a try as a housekeeper, I was grateful even for the short-term offer.”
“He—we,” she said, “would be lost without you.” She gathered her courage in both hands. “I guess you must miss Wendy in your own way, as much as he does.”
Finn was stroking over the sweater again, his eyes downcast, and she couldn’t read his thoughts. “Wendy was so sweet,” he said. “It was a terrible, terrible thing when she…passed.”
“I knew her, too.” She couldn’t resist probing the edges of her jealousy like a child with a loose tooth. “She seemed so perfect for Ryan.”
Finn’s head came up. “I didn’t realize you knew her. Ryan has told me that you two were childhood friends but I didn’t know…” His eyes filled with tears and he reached unashamedly for a tissue on the bedside table. “Sorry. She and I were very close.”
“I’m sure.” Jessie waited for him to collect himself. It’s no one’s fault but your own, if you feel like you’re running second-best, she told herself angrily, even with the household help. You’re the one who started this stupid conversation.
“You look tired.” Finn stood up, his gaze searching her face. “I can finish hanging these things later. Why don’t you take a little nappy-poo?”
His over-the-top phrasing made her smile as she suspected he’d intended. “Good idea. I believe I will.”
But after he’d left the room, it was a long time before she fell asleep.
Ryan didn’t touch her again—except for a few casual kisses on her forehead—for a long time. She went to her twelve-week checkup and the doctor announced they would begin tapering her off the medication. But to her chagrin, by the time they’d decreased the dosage to half, the nausea had returned. At fourteen weeks, the doctor upped the dosage again.
She had a second sonogram then, too. This time the babies were recognizably human, with tiny ears and features.
“That’s not all we can see,” the technician said. “Do you want to know what you’re having?”
Jessie looked at Ryan. They already knew both would be the same sex. “What do you think?”
He was grinning. “I don’t know if I can stand not to know, now that I know she knows.” He indicated the technician, who was laughing. “What do you think?” he said to Jessie.
“I don’t know,” she wailed. “On one hand, I’d like to be surprised. On the other, we have to buy so much stuff for two babies that it would be nice to know what colors to go for. All right.” She took a deep breath and said to the technician, “Tell us!”
Ryan reached for her hand and threaded her fingers through his, a different clasp than the loose hold he usually employed.
The technician smiled. “You’re having girls,” she said. “Think pink.”
“Girls.” Jessie envisioned two dainty little creatures in tulle. “Ballet. Braided hair.”
“Softball and soccer,” Ryan countered. “Don’t be sexist.” He leaned over the table and set his lips gently on hers. “Congratulations, Mama.”
She returned the sweet kiss, wondering if he could feel how much she loved him. “Same to you, Daddy.”
They didn’t go straight home. Ryan took her shopping. “Just a short trip,” he said. “Then you can go home and rest.”
“I don’t need to rest,” she said. “Other than the fact that my body can’t seem to stop feeling sick, I’m fine. Whoever figured out that lethargy goes away in the second trimester was absolutely right!”
They went straight to the infant department.
One day several weeks ago, Ryan had had a special delivery made: an enormous double stroller, two high chairs, two booster seats, two baby bathtub seats and two of several other vital items the modern world deemed necessary for rearing a baby.
But today he didn’t stop to look at any equipment. Instead, he took her straight to the clothing section. “Pick out some things you like,” he said. “Pink, frilly, lacy, whatever. I’m going to look for some of those teeny-tiny baseball outfits I’ve seen.”
He came back a few minutes later, bearing not outfits, but instead, two of the tiniest Red Sox baseball caps she’d ever seen. She’d chosen several sleepers and two identical dresses, not exceptionally frilly because she couldn’t stand fussy clothing. And they weren’t even technically pink, but a soft shade of peach.
As they were making the purchases at the register, the clerk exclaimed over the twin clothing.
“We just found out today we’re having girls,” Jessie told her.
“Girls.” The lady sighed happily. “I have three girls. What a delight.” She efficiently folded the clothing and bagged it piece by piece. “Have you talked about names?”
“Not yet.” She looked at Ryan. “We haven’t even begun to toss around choices.”
“You’d better get started,” the clerk advised. “With my first, my husband changed his mind about the name a week before my due date. When the baby was born that night, we were still arguing about it in the delivery room!”
Jessie laughed. “I hope we won’t have that problem.”
That evening Ryan’s voice over the intercom informed her tha
t they’d be eating in the dining room.
She raised her eyebrows as she got up from the nap she’d taken, washed her face and put on one of the few blouses she owned that hung out over her unbuttoned pants. They’d eaten in her room at first, and later in the kitchen when she’d been well enough to be on her feet again. The dining room was a first.
Ryan was waiting at the foot of the steps when she came down. He smiled and offered her his arm. “Very pretty,” he said. “I suppose soon you’re going to need a whole new wardrobe.”
“Tents, according to Finn,” she said.
He chuckled.
“You look nice, too.” He was wearing a sky-blue sweater that made his eyes equally vivid, and brushed wool slacks in a camel color.
“I thought we should celebrate,” he said. “Hearing that we’re having girls today made it more real somehow.”
“I know.”
In the dining room Finn had lit candles and closed the drapes. A low fire dozed in the gas fireplace, and silver gleamed on the table. The main course was an excellent broiled salmon steak served with couscous.
“I feel so decadent, having my meals served like this,” she confessed as they dined.
He laughed. “I’ve gotten over it.” Then he sobered. “Do you like to cook? If you’d rather do some of your own cooking, I can ask Finn—”
“Heavens, no!” She grinned. “Trust me, you do not want me cooking for you. Why do you think I ate most of my meals out when I lived alone?”
“Ah. In that case, we’ll leave the current arrangements as they are. Finn genuinely enjoys it. If he doesn’t, he’s a darn good liar.”
“I think he’s as excited about the babies as we are.”
“Speaking of our babies…” Ryan stood and walked to the sideboard, where he picked up a dusty-looking old book and brought it back to the table. He moved her empty plate and set it before her. “When I was bringing in those boxes from your basement, the bottom fell out of one. As I was putting things back again, this caught my eye.”
She looked carefully at the book before it. It was a Bible, clearly quite old. She ran a finger across the cover. “Have you looked at this?”
He nodded. “Sorry. Simple curiosity. But I found something I think you’ll agree is very interesting.”
Slowly, she opened the cover of the black Bible. It was a King James version. Inside, in an elegant penmanship she didn’t recognize, was her grandmother’s name before she had married Brendan Reilly. “Was this my grandmother’s?”
Ryan nodded. He turned a second page and she read the inscription in the same script.
“To Ellen Kathleen Sheehan on the occasion of her First Communion.” She glanced at him. “I wonder if this is my great-grandmother’s writing.” Conflicting feelings warred within her. Her memories of her grandmother were tinged with fear, respect, resentment…all tied too closely to untangle. Her grandmother’s voice had been sharp, often exasperated, laced with disapproval whether she had been speaking to Jessie or to her daughter, Jessie’s mother. If Ellen Sheehan Reilly had ever known a moment’s affection for her bastard granddaughter, as she’d once called Jessie in a fit of cold anger, it had been buried deep. Deep enough that Jessie had never felt it. Her own children were never going to wonder why they weren’t lovable. They were never going to be called bastards. They were never going to pray that their best would make their mother smile just this one time.
“You know,” she said, running her finger over her grandmother’s name. “I think she really hated me.”
“Jessie, I—”
“No, Ryan, I really think she did. You were raised with so much love you can’t imagine what it was like to share a home with that woman. She was a very strong personality. My mother and my grandfather both were quiet shadows. I can barely remember my own mother. Isn’t that sad?”
Ryan picked up his chair and set it down close to her, then reached for her free hand. “I’m sorry.”
She nodded. “So am I. Not just for myself, but for my grandmother. Wouldn’t it have been easier just to forgive my mother? To be glad that she had a healthy grandchild?”
“Yes.” His voice was certain. “It would have been. I wish I could change the past for you, Jess.”
She smiled sadly at him. “So do I.” With an effort she forced herself to set aside the bad memories. “Was this what you wanted to show me?”
“Not exactly.” He pulled the Bible to him and leafed through it to the center section where there were pages for family genealogy—births, deaths and weddings. “Look at this.”
What he’d found stunned her. There were at least three generations of her family prior to her mother’s birth, all neatly chronicled in the order the events had occurred. Names leaped out at her as she scanned the pages. Corcoran, O’Driscoll, Scally. Her own name and her mother’s. Her grandmother’s mother had been born in Ireland, her children in Boston. Family history, even this dry and long-dead, was something she’d always assumed she’d never have.
She blinked back tears. Then she realized he was still pointing to one specific part of the page. Carefully she read the words to herself. Ellen Kathleen Sheehan. b. 9/9/18, Boston. The date of death was blank, as was her mother’s, and Jessie realized no one had been left to enter those, until now. She read the next line. Shannon Mary Sheehan. b. 9/9/18, Boston. d. 9/27/18, Boston.
Goose bumps rose. She raised shocked eyes to Ryan’s. “My grandmother was a twin.”
He nodded, unsmiling. “And it was another girl. Any bets they were identical?”
She sat back in her chair and reached for her water glass. “I can’t believe it.” She reread the entry. “Poor baby. She only lived nine days.” Then she sat up straight as something else occurred to her. “Did you read all the other entries?”
He shook his head. “No. When I saw this, I was floored. I put the book down and walked in circles for a while.” He smiled crookedly. “Someday we’ll have to warn our own daughters about the twin births in their family history.”
Jessie reached for the Bible again, pulling it closer and carefully reading each of the entries in the flowing, slanted handwriting. “Let’s look at the other generations and see— Oh!” She stopped. “There’s another set born to my great-grandmother’s sister. I can’t believe I never knew this.” The anger within her swelled. “How could they have never shared this with me?”
“Your mother may never have known,” Ryan pointed out.
“That’s possible,” she conceded. “Probable, in fact.” She shoved the Bible away from her and blew out a breath of frustration, resting her head in her hands with her elbows on the table. “Knowing twins ran in my family might have changed a lot of things,’ she said wearily.
“Like what?” Ryan stepped behind her and she felt his big hands come heavily down on her shoulders. His thumbs dug in, massaging taut muscles in her neck as he rubbed her shoulders, and she let herself relax beneath his ministrations. “I wouldn’t change one single thing. In a few more months you and I are going to have two beautiful baby girls.” He paused, and a note of grim humor entered his voice. “I guess it’s a safe bet that we won’t be naming one after your grandmother.”
She snorted, unamused. “Definitely a safe bet.” She rolled her head, giving him better access to the bands of tension in her neck.
The room was silent for a few moments as he continued his gentle massage. Slowly his touches became less clinical and more caressing. He slid his hands partway down her arms and back up, then into her hair.
She made a sound like a satisfied cat, somewhat startled to hear it come from her own throat. Her pulse began to beat a quick tattoo. Taking a deep breath to still her nerves, she reached up and took one of his hands, drawing it forward and pressing a kiss into his palm. “That felt wonderful,” she said.
He moved to her side. Slowly, looking into her eyes, he took her elbow and helped her to her feet, then put his hands at her waist as she turned to face him. “Jess,” he said, and his voi
ce was rough velvet.
She lifted her arms to circle his neck as he slipped his hands around her and drew her close, searching out her mouth, claiming her with a sure, deep possession that shook her to her toes. She opened her mouth to him, her tongue dancing a swirling sensual pattern with his as he pulled her up against his chest, flattening her breasts against the firm, hard musculature. His thighs were hard. She made another sound deep in her throat as his thick arousal found the notch at her thighs and pressed heavily forward.
How long had she needed him without even knowing it? she wondered. Love flowed through her, tightening her arms around him as she gave herself more completely to his caresses. Her pregnancy was forgotten, the doctor’s warnings unheeded as she moved her hips sinuously against his, excitement spiraling high as his body responded to her provocative motions and his hands slid down her back to palm her buttocks and pull her up tight against him.
She whimpered, squirming against him, trying to get even closer. And then he tore his mouth from hers. “Stop,” he panted, his voice a fierce growl. “Do—not—move.”
She stopped, too dazed to comprehend.
Ryan was breathing like a bellows, harsh gasps that moved her on his chest and sent sensation sizzling clear down to her toes. Reluctantly his arms loosened and he let her slide back to the floor. He groaned as her body slid over his and she caught her breath as his hips thrust one last time. Loosening his embrace, he took her by the arms and moved her a step away from him.
“Jess,” he said.
She raised her gaze to his, her bewilderment plain. “Why not?”
He smiled, though there was a distinctly pained quality to it. “Believe me, it wasn’t my first choice.” His hands caressed her shoulders, his thumbs sliding along her collarbones with a light, sweet touch. “There’s nothing I want more than to make love to you, but we can’t. Doctor’s orders, remember?”
Abruptly, she did remember, and her whole body sagged. “Dear Lord,” she said. “What was I thinking?”
His smile widened to a wolfish grin, and his eyes glittered. “You weren’t. And neither was I.” Releasing her shoulders, he took her left hand, raising it between them to inspect the rings that were the symbol of his claim on her. “The day the doctor gives you a clean bill of health can’t come soon enough for me. But the last thing in the world that I want to do is endanger our babies.”
Billionaire Bachelors: Ryan Page 11