His for One Night

by Sarah M. Anderson

  Just then Flash glanced up, and even through the dark and distance, she felt the moment their gazes locked.

  Who was he talking to? This could be a disaster. Of course there was a contingency plan for when she announced Bean’s existence and, knowing her publicist, there was one for if the information leaked. She didn’t want Bean to be gossip. She wanted to be the one controlling the information. She wanted to introduce her son to the world.

  She could still get in front of this. She was supposed to meet with the publicist about tonight’s show and approve a series of small shows on Music Row in downtown Nashville until the album officially dropped. Then there was a tour that was already set up, even though it hadn’t been announced yet. She had to go over the album the final time with the producers. And then there were the interviews—so far, all by phone.

  They might have to spend all that time talking about her one big mistake instead of her album, but she was going to control this narrative, by God.

  With or without Flash.

  Would he acknowledge the baby publicly? Would he sign off on the inevitable PR that would go along with introducing Bean to the world?

  Or was this about to be a fight?

  She didn’t want a fight. She didn’t want to be on opposite sides of Flash, stuck in a tug-of-war with the baby as the rope. She wanted Flash on her side.

  Especially since Brooke was going to have to tell her mother about him. At the rate things were going, Brooke would have to tell her soon. Like, in a day or two. God help her, Brooke didn’t want to.

  Flash Lawrence was the sum total of things Crissy Bonner hated and Brooke knew it. Crissy would do the exact same thing Brooke had done—she’d start by researching Flash, and the moment those headlines came up it’d be all over.

  It wouldn’t matter how much Flash would claim he’d changed. Crissy Bonner would see only the irresponsible, immature ass who’d knocked her daughter up and abandoned her to brawl in bars and ride bulls—all of which put the carefully crafted career Crissy had been arranging since Brooke had turned five in danger of collapsing under the weight of scandal. Brooke didn’t know anything about her father, who Mom claimed had split when Brooke was still crawling. But, needless to say, Crissy Bonner was not a big fan of any man who abandoned a woman and a child.

  Nope. None of that was for the best.

  Cuddling Bean to her chest, Brooke settled into the rocker. No matter what, her son came first. She and Flash would...work something out. Shared custody, maybe. Brooke wouldn’t allow her mother or her record label or anyone—not even Flash himself—to hurt her child.

  But what if there could be something more? For the first time since Bean had announced himself to Flash, Brooke’s thoughts turned not to what’d happened months ago or what was going to happen tomorrow, but to those last few moments before it’d all gone to hell.

  Flash, pressing her back against the door. Flash, kissing her even better than she’d remembered. Flash, bringing her to orgasm like no time at all had passed between this night and the one thirteen months ago.

  Flash, reminding her who she’d been before she’d become a mother.

  She shuddered, her body tightening almost painfully with need. She didn’t know how this would work—would they date? Be co-parents? It seemed pretty obvious that she couldn’t spend any time with Flash without having hot, great sex. She was too aware of him, too needy for him. So could they be co-parents with benefits, maybe? She’d be okay with that. Bean could spend time with his father, and she could keep Flash in her bed.

  Anything more seemed unlikely—he’d be chasing the rodeo and she was supposed to go on tour. They’d rarely be in the same town at the same time, much less in the same state.

  Of course, that all depended on if he was calling his lawyer or the press or, hell, his girlfriend, didn’t it?

  She stared down at Bean, his eyes already half closed as he held on to her thumb with his tiny fingers, nursing happily. She’d never been away from her son for longer than a few hours, recording her album in between nursing him. She wanted her son to know his father, she really did. It pained her to think of him missing that part of his life, his history. She had no idea who her father’s people were. Her mom had erased any trace of that man from the record.

  She wouldn’t allow that to happen for Bean. She was not going to turn into her mother.

  But she couldn’t bear the thought of a custody battle with Flash, couldn’t even consider the idea that she might lose her son.

  Brooke made her decision.

  She wouldn’t ask for anything more from Flash than he was willing to give, and she wouldn’t let him reject his son. And there was no way in hell she would let him take the boy away from her.

  She might have dozed, she couldn’t tell. The next thing she knew, Flash was sitting on the footstool before her, staring at where Bean was still barely latched on.

  Flash didn’t look mad. If anything, he looked...focused. He wasn’t pale and that wild look was gone from his eyes. When he glanced up at her, that ghost of a smile played over his lips, and she felt a smile of her own answer his.

  “I’ll put him down, then we can talk,” she whispered. Flash nodded. She moved Bean to her shoulder and gently patted his back. Flash studied her every move with an intensity that sent little shivers down her back. When she pushed to her feet, he stood with her.

  She put Bean on his back in the crib and stared down at her perfect little boy, clinging to what might be the last moment of peace for a while. The moment she left this room, things would change—quickly.

  Then Flash stepped up next to her, shoulders touching, his hip warm against hers, his fingers brushing hers on the crib rail. She fought the urge to wrap her arm around his waist and lean into him.

  This was what she wanted, this closeness. This feeling of being part of a team. Yeah, she had Alex and her mother, but it wasn’t the same. Only Flash could seduce her with that smile, make her feel like he did.

  But it was an illusion, one shattered when he leaned over and said against her ear, “We need talk. Now.”

  She nodded and, after leaning over to brush her fingers over the baby’s forehead, headed down to the library. At least, that’s what she called the room, because it’s where all the books were, as well as her piano. It was mostly where she went when she needed a little peace and quiet to write, because the library was on the complete opposite side of the house from Bean’s room. If there had to be shouting, hopefully they wouldn’t wake the baby back up.

  Flash didn’t follow her at first. She turned back to see him lean over the crib, a look of what she hoped was adoration on his face as he touched Bean’s forehead almost the exact same way Brooke had.

  “Sleep for Mommy, little man,” he whispered, and if it were possible to fall in love with him in a moment, she might have done so because Flash was going to love Bean, and the baby would know his father and everything would work out.

  A vision of a happy family assembled itself in her mind’s eye, one where Flash got up with Bean when he fussed at night and kissed her awake in the morning. A lifetime of teaching Bean to walk and swim and ride horses, of singing along to her songs when they came on the radio and watching Flash ride from the bleachers at the rodeo. She wanted it all with him, everything that went into being a family—first steps and first words, first everything.

  And when Bean went to bed, she wanted Flash waiting up for her after a show or coming home to her after a rodeo, celebrating his win and her hits with hot kisses and hotter sex. A lifetime of losing themselves in each other, where the sex only got better and Flash was a man she could count on, through good times and bad. Where she was the only woman he needed or wanted.

  Then Flash turned to her and another icy shiver raced down her back. That intensity was still there, but anything sweet or adoring was long gone.

  Say something romantic
. She didn’t miss that the other chorus line—Don’t say something romantic—had disappeared completely. She couldn’t stop the melody from running through her head, couldn’t stop wishing Flash would hear the same song.

  But it wasn’t meant to be because even if Flash wasn’t throw-things-against-the-wall mad, it was obvious he was still freaking furious.

  Right. Best get this over with.

  She headed down the stairs, determined to hash this out. She could like him and she could want him, but she wasn’t going to torpedo her career or risk her son’s happiness to soothe over Flash’s ruffled feathers. He could just be mad. She would protect her family.

  By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs, Flash caught up with her. He grabbed her hand, as if he were afraid she might bolt. “How old?” he asked softly, even as his fingers were as hard as steel around hers.

  He was hard and soft all at once, intense and gentle. She wanted to lean into him, but she wasn’t entirely sure she could trust that he wouldn’t push her away.

  “He’ll be four months next Wednesday. In here,” she replied, leading him into the library. “I was in labor the night of the Grammys. I had him at three in the morning.”

  “Ah. I wondered why you weren’t there.” Flash guided her to the long blue couch arranged in front of the fireplace, but instead of sitting next to her he moved to the mantel. “Did everything go okay? Any...” He swallowed, looking ill. “Any problems for you or him?”

  “No. Labor was long and not fun, but everyone was fine. Seven pounds, six ounces, all his fingers and toes. The doctors say he’s right where he should be.”

  Flash slumped against the mantel in relief. “Good. That’s good. I wish I’d been there for you.”

  “I wish you had been, too.”

  Flash stared down at the floor. “Was I right earlier? You looked me up and found the headlines?”

  Her cheeks blazed with heat, but the hell of it was, she had no idea why she was embarrassed. “I did. I’m sorry, Flash. I—”

  “Don’t apologize.” His voice was harder now. “I brought that on myself, as my sister is so fond of reminding me.” He closed his eyes and another few moments passed. Was this normal for him? She should know—but she didn’t because every time she was around him, they wound up having sex instead of deep, meaningful conversations.

  “Just for the record,” he began suddenly in a low voice, “if I walk out of the room, it’s because I don’t want to lose my temper, not because I’m walking away from you. I’ll come back when I’m in control because we are nowhere near done, Brooke.”

  Honest to God, she had no idea if that was a threat or a promise. “All right.” She shifted nervously, trying to find something to do with her hands. She wished she could go sit at her baby grand piano and let her fingers work out a melody. She thought better when she let the music carry away her anxiety.

  “Are you mad at me?” she asked. As if that answer wasn’t obvious.

  “I am extremely upset,” he said, his voice oddly level. His eyes closed again, and he exhaled for a long moment before going on, “I am mad at you because you didn’t tell me about my son. I am mad at myself because I know we used protection, but obviously it failed and I failed you. Repeatedly. I obviously wasn’t as careful with your health as I should’ve been, and I wasn’t the kind of person who you thought you could trust.”

  Wait—was he not throwing her under the bus here? Was he taking responsibility? At least some of it? “I don’t blame you for this, Flash. We used condoms, but it takes two to tango.”

  He nodded curtly, which was the only way she knew he’d heard her. “I’ve learned that, for me, anger is a catchall for my emotions, and it takes work to understand the other things I’m feeling. I am damned hurt right now. And surprised and a little scared and...mad. Because how could you hide him from me, Brooke? How could you not even give me a chance?”

  His voice had begun to approach a shout, but he checked himself and began to pace in a tight circle in front of the mantel. She was reminded of an unbroken horse in a corral, running back and forth and trying to decide if it was going to charge the fence or not.

  Would he bolt? Or would he settle?

  “I was going to tell you,” she explained.

  “When?” he snapped. “Because that baby’s well past newborn, Brooke.”

  She winced. She hated this guilt, but he was right. “I always meant to tell you, but it was easy to put off contacting you until tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, and the longer I didn’t tell you, the more I was afraid that you’d...”

  “That I’d punch a wall or wrap my truck around a light pole?”

  She winced at the truth of that. “No one else knows about him except Alex, my mother and a few medical professionals, all of whom signed nondisclosure agreements in addition to their legal obligations to keep my medical history private. Oh, and a few record executives, all who had a vested interest in keeping the news quiet.”

  Confusion flitted across his face. “Why, though? Are you ashamed of him?”

  “Of course not.” Brooke slumped back against the couch. Suddenly she was tired. She’d done a show tonight and hooked up with Flash, and now had to defend the choices she’d made during the most stressful moments of the last year. Of her life. “It’s because I wouldn’t tell anyone who you were. Not a single person knows you’re Bean’s father—or knew. Alex figured it out tonight. I never wanted to keep this a secret, but I got overruled by literally everyone else, all because I didn’t want to bring you into it.”

  His eyes bugged out. “You didn’t tell anyone about me?”

  “You were my secret. Those headlines...” She shuddered. “Because I wouldn’t identify you, my mother and my record label decided to keep the pregnancy quiet.”

  “Damn it,” he growled, but at least he growled quietly. “I was following your career and you suddenly fell off the map and I had no idea. If I’d known, I...” He stopped and suddenly paced to the doorway, but he didn’t walk out. Instead, he turned back around. He looked tortured and it hurt her.

  She’d made the best of a bad situation, but she’d never stopped second-guessing herself. And the fact that he wasn’t screaming and blaming her for getting pregnant in the first place—that was what she’d feared. And what she’d expected, to be honest, after reading all those headlines.

  His response gave her hope. Maybe this could work. Somehow.

  She went to him, resting her hand on his arm. His eyes softened as he cupped her cheek with his hand and stroked her skin with his thumb. “I wish it’d been different,” she whispered, leaning into his touch. “I’m so sorry, Flash. I’d change the past if I could but...”

  “Neither of us can.”

  Somehow, she and Flash were getting closer. His arm slid around her waist and her head rested on his shoulder. God, it felt so damn good. This was who she wanted—Flash at his best.

  “He’s such a great baby, Flash. I want him to know his whole family—your family.”

  “I called my sister,” he told her. “Chloe—remember meeting her at the Fort Worth rodeo?” Brooke nodded and Flash went on, his arms tightening around her waist. “She and her husband Pete run the All-Stars and they’re in town. They’re heading over.”

  “That’s fine. Chloe seemed nice.”

  Actually, Chloe had been more than a little upset with Brooke because hooking up with Flash had made Brooke late to start her show. But Brooke couldn’t hold that against the woman. The show had to go on, after all. If someone had to be the first to find out about Bean, it was probably for the best that it was family.

  Flash snorted. “She’s a bossy know-it-all, but she’s saved my butt more times than I can count. And she loves babies.”

  “That’s nice. I...” Swallowing nervously, she tilted her head back and stared up at Flash. It was wonderful that this convers
ation about the past wasn’t a fight, but that didn’t mean a discussion of the future would be easy. Especially as his fingers stroked over her skin again, warm and encouraging. Brooke got the words out before his touch distracted her. Again. “I want to make this right. I don’t know if you realize this, but to this day my own mother won’t tell me who my father is, and I refuse to let my own son grow up like I did. I want us do this parenting thing together.”

  He took several long breaths, but he didn’t close his eyes, didn’t walk out of the room and he wasn’t yelling—so this was all progress, right? Instead, he pulled her closer, her chest flush against his. Languid heat began to build in her body because even though she was exhausted and relieved and so, so thankful that Flash was finally here and it was all going to be okay, she’d had all of one orgasm in months and she selfishly wanted more. With this man—no one else.

  Say something romantic, she silently begged him as she molded her body against his. Something sweet and hot that would let her know it would all work out just fine. Something that would take this perfect melody between them and make it into a song.

  He didn’t. He didn’t kiss her or offer to hold her for the few short hours of sleep she might get before Bean woke up hungry. Instead, something in his eyes hardened as his arms crushed her against him. When he spoke, his voice was silky smooth and it sent a chill down her spine.

  “We’re absolutely in this together from now on. That’s why we’ll get married as soon as possible.”

  Seven

  “What?”

  Flash didn’t miss the way Brooke’s body went stiff in his arms. “Married,” he repeated, feeling his blood pressure rise. “As soon as possible. That boy is a Lawrence by blood and by right.”

  Brooke moved but, instead of curling into him, she twisted out of his grasp. “Flash—what are you talking about?”

  Not that he expected Brooke to start jumping for joy or anything, but hadn’t she just said they were in this together?