She didn’t know where she and Deacon were going for dinner, so she’d gone neutral with a sleeveless midnight blue cocktail dress. Its scoop neckline sparkled with a spray of subtle crystals. The waist was fitted, and it flared slightly to mid-thigh.
She’d popped her little diamond studs into her ears, pairing them with a delicate gold diamond chip pendant. Her black, high-heeled sandals were classic and comfortable. Her makeup had turned out a little heavier than usual, and when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she realized there was a shine of anticipation in her eyes.
She spotted her wedding set in the mirror.
She lifted her hand, spreading her fingers and touching the solitaire diamond.
She was too jazzed tonight for something that wasn’t a date.
She closed her eyes. Then she pulled off the rings. Before she could change her mind, she opened her jewelry box and set them on the red velvet. She’d already kissed Deacon once. If she was going to do it again, she had to admit to herself that Frederick was in her past.
She smoothed her dress, taking a last look at herself in the mirror.
Then her phone rang, and she felt a sudden rush of anxiety. Was it Deacon? Had he changed his mind?
She was afraid to look at the number, afraid to see it was him.
“Hello?”
“Callie?” It was Pam.
Callie breathed a sigh of relief. “Are you running late?”
“Yes. I mean, no.” Pam’s tone was high, her words rushed. “I mean, I’m not running at all.”
“Whoa. Slow down. Is everything okay?”
“I fell down the front stairs.”
There were voices in the background.
“Are you hurt?” Callie asked. “Who’s there with you?”
“I twisted my ankle. My mom’s taking me to the hospital for X-rays. It’s swelling up fast.”
“I’m so sorry.” Callie’s heart went out to Pam.
Pam was an avid cyclist and tennis player. A broken ankle would be devastating for her.
“I can’t babysit tonight,” Pam said.
“Don’t worry about it. Take care of yourself.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine. Get to the doctor. Call me when you know something, okay? And if there’s anything I can do.”
“Ouch! Mom, I can’t bend that way.”
Callie cringed in sympathy.
“I better go,” Pam said.
“Good luck,” Callie called as Pam signed off.
“Mommy, Mommy,” James shouted up from the kitchen.
“I’m coming, honey.”
The front doorbell rang.
“Ethan squirted his juice box,” James cried out.
“Ethan,” Callie admonished her youngest son as she trotted down the stairs. “You know better than to squirt.”
“Purple,” Ethan said with an unrepentant grin.
“Do you want to use a sippy cup instead?”
Ethan’s smile disappeared, and he shook his head.
The doorbell rang again.
“Then don’t squeeze,” she told him firmly.
“Can we have macaroni?” James asked, opening the refrigerator door. “With orange cheese?”
“We’ll see,” Callie said, swooping the juice box out of Ethan’s hand to set it on the counter.
“Juice box!” Ethan cried, reaching up for it.
So much for her date. Or her non-date. Whatever it was, she was sorely disappointed to miss it.
“I have to get the door,” she told James.
“Juice box!” Ethan screeched.
“You’ll have to wait a minute,” she said to Ethan, walking quickly down the hallway to the entry foyer.
She drew open the door to find Deacon on the porch.
“Hi,” he said. Then his attention was immediately drawn to Ethan’s cries from the kitchen. “Is everything okay?”
“Juice box disaster,” she said, pulling the door wide and standing out of the way. “Come on in.”
He wore a white dress shirt, a steel blue blazer and dark jeans.
“You look fantastic,” he said, closing the door behind him.
She smiled, her heart warming at the compliment. She hated to tell him the night was over before it even got started.
“I’ll be right back.” She headed for the kitchen to quiet Ethan.
He’d come up with another plan of attack and was pushing a chair toward the counter.
She retrieved the juice box. “No more squirting?” she asked him in a grave voice.
“No squirt,” he agreed, abandoning the chair to trot over to her.
“I’m hungry,” James said.
“I know.” She rubbed her hand over his tousled hair. “Pam can’t come tonight.”
Ethan took a pause in his drinking. “Pam, Pam.”
“Pam hurt her ankle,” Callie told them both. “She has to go see a doctor.”
“Does she need a bandage?” James asked. “We have horsey bandages.”
“Yes, we do,” Callie agreed.
The boys were currently big into cartoon bandages. Since they got a lot of cuts and scrapes, it was helpful that they thought of the bandages as a treat.
“The doctor will probably give her a white bandage. It might be a big one.”
“Big owie?” Ethan asked.
“I hope not,” Callie said.
She was already thinking about tomorrow morning and what she could do about work. With Pam out of commission, she was going to have a problem.
Deacon’s voice joined the conversation. “Somebody has a big owie?”
Callie turned to see him in the kitchen doorway.
Both boys fell silent and stared at Deacon.
“I didn’t mean to abandon you,” she told Deacon.
“No problem.”
“James, Ethan, this is my friend Deacon Holt.”
“Hello,” James said.
Ethan stayed silent.
Deacon stepped into the kitchen and crouched on his haunches. “Hello, James. Hi, Ethan. You probably don’t remember, but I saw you at Downright Sweet last week. You were having cookies.”
“Color candies,” Ethan said.
“That’s exactly what you had.”
“I had peanut butter,” James said.
“I had a warm monster cookie,” Deacon said.
“Purple juice,” Ethan said, holding up his juice box as proof.
“I see that.” Deacon’s gaze took in the purple streak that ran across the white patterned linoleum.
“Oh, dang,” Callie said, remembering the spill. If she didn’t get it wiped up, it would stain.
She crossed to the sink and soaked a cloth with hot water.
“I’ll get that.” Deacon’s voice directly behind her made her jump.
“Oh, no you don’t.” She wasn’t about to let him scrub her floor.
“You look way too good to be cleaning floors.” He gently but firmly took the cloth from her hand.
“Deacon, don’t,” she protested.
But he was down on one knee, wiping up the spill.
“Ethan squirted,” James said.
“I see that,” Deacon answered.
“He got in trouble.”
“Trouble,” Ethan called out with glee, jumping in place.
“Careful,” Callie said, afraid of another stream of purple, afraid it might hit Deacon’s white shirt.
“Gone, gone,” Ethan said and shook the box.
Callie took it from him, while Deacon rinsed out the cloth.
“It’s my babysitter that got hurt,” Callie told Deacon. “She’s getting an ankle X-ray. I’m sorry, but I’m afraid we’ll have to postpone dinner.”
Deacon shut off the taps and squeezed the excess water from the cloth. “You’re going to have to eat something.”
“The boys want me to make them macaroni.” It wasn’t Callie’s favorite, especially when she’d been anticipating music, wine and adult company.
“With orange cheese,” James said.
“How do they feel about pizza?” Deacon asked.
Ethan’s attention immediately perked up. “Pizza?”
“It has white cheese,” Deacon said to James.
“Pineapple,” Ethan called out.
“With pepperoni?” James asked.
Callie couldn’t believe Deacon was making the offer. Was he actually willing to stay here amongst the grape juice stains with two rambunctious boys and eat take-out pizza?
“What’s your favorite topping?” he asked her.
“I don’t think you know what you’re doing,” she said.
“I have ordered pizza a time or two.”
“You’re volunteering to stay?”
“You’re staying.”
“Of course I am.”
He gave a shrug. “Then that’s settled. What’s the best pizza place in the neighborhood? And do you want me to run out for some wine?”
* * *
On the sofa, Ethan’s sleeping head cradled in her lap, Callie sipped a glass of cabernet sauvignon.
“It’s the biggest castle in all of England,” James said, putting a final colored building brick on the tower he was assembling with Deacon.
“Who lives inside?” Deacon asked, making Callie smile.
“The King,” James said. “And the Queen, and five little princes.”
“Five? That’s a lot of princes.”
“They play together in the tower. It has winding stairs, and they have practice swords.”
“Are there any princesses in the castle?” Deacon asked.
“Nah. Girls are no fun.”
Deacon looked up to catch Callie’s eye and give her a lighthearted grin. “I think girls are pretty fun.”
“They play with dolls,” James said, scooting backward on the living room carpet to survey their creation.
“I suppose that’s true. But boys can play with dolls,” Deacon said.
“I know they can play with dolls. But why would they?”
“They could pretend they were the daddy.”
“My daddy had a wheelchair,” James said matter-of-factly.
Callie’s breath caught for a second. James rarely mentioned Frederick.
“I heard he did,” Deacon said with a nod.
“I sat in it once. I like my bike better.” James took the remaining few blocks and built a square near the front gate. “That’s the statue.”
“Guarding the front gate?”
“It’s a statue. It can’t guard.”
“Some statues are built to look fierce and scare off the bad guys,” Deacon said. “Like lions.”
“Or dragons.”
“Or dragons.”
“James,” Callie said softly, so as not to disturb Ethan. “It’s bedtime, honey.”
“It’s always bedtime,” James said on a whine.
“Same time every day,” Callie said, although it was half an hour later than usual. She hadn’t wanted to interrupt the castle building.
“It’s not fair,” James said, screwing his mouth into a mulish frown.
“Why don’t we take a picture of the castle,” Deacon suggested, producing his phone. “That way, you can always remember it. Do you want to be in the picture?”
Callie couldn’t help but admire Deacon’s distraction technique.
“I want to be in the picture,” James said, coming up on his knees beside the castle.
“Smile,” Deacon said as he snapped a few pictures. “I’ll send these to your mom, and you can see them in the morning.”
“Okay,” James said, and then he magically came to his feet.
Grateful, Callie gathered Ethan in her arms.
“Do you need help?” Deacon asked in an undertone.
“He’s not too heavy.” She stood, wrapping her arms beneath Ethan’s bottom, supporting his head with her shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be here.”
She followed James up the stairs, where he tiredly climbed into his pajamas, alternating between jabs with an imaginary sword and wide yawns.
She tucked Ethan in, and then supervised while James brushed his teeth. James was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
Barefoot now, but still wearing her dress, she padded back downstairs to the family room.
Deacon was on the floor, disassembling the castle and packing the blocks into their bins.
“You don’t have to do that,” she said. “I can clean it up in the morning.”
He kept at it. “You’re not going to Downright Sweet in the morning?”
“I will if I can find a substitute babysitter.”
“Then you don’t need to be picking up toys before breakfast.”
“Fine. We’ll do it now.” She lowered herself to the floor to help.
“Am I doing this right?” he asked, indicating the various sizes of bins.
“You’re doing it very right. I never thought to ask, but do you have children?” She didn’t know why she’d assumed he didn’t.
“No.”
“Nieces or nephews?”
He hesitated over his answer. “No children in my life.”
“Funny.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re very good at this.” She was definitely impressed.
“Good at building toy castles?”
“Good at dealing with children. James was about to make a huge fuss about going to bed, but you distracted him. And you didn’t ask if he wanted to demolish the castle. You asked whether or not he wanted to be in the picture. Either answer was a de facto agreement to end the game.”
She finished talking and realized he’d stopped putting the building blocks away and was watching her.
“I really hadn’t thought it through,” he said.
“So it’s instinct.”
“I don’t know what it is, logic and reason, maybe.”
She leaned forward, stretching to put a handful of blocks in a bin. “Then I admire your logic and reason.”
He didn’t respond, and when she looked up at him, she realized the neckline of her dress had gaped open, giving him an expansive view of her lacy bra.
She knew she should move or cover herself. She didn’t.
“Wife?” she asked him.
“Huh?” He didn’t wear a ring, but that didn’t make it a certainty.
“Are you married?”
He raised his gaze to meet hers. “I wouldn’t be looking at you like this if I was married.”
“Girlfriend?” she asked, not ready to take anything for granted.
“I kissed you.”
“That’s not a guarantee.”
“It is in my case. I wouldn’t have kissed you if I had a girlfriend.” He eased closer. “Boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Potential boyfriend?”
She drew back in confusion. Did he mean himself?
She wasn’t sure how to answer.
“I don’t really know. I haven’t given it much thought.”
As she said the words, she recognized they were a lie. She’d given plenty of thought to Deacon. Maybe not as formally as a boyfriend, but definitely in the romantic sense, absolutely in the sexual sense.
“Okay,” he said. His gaze returned to her neckline. “You’re killing me, Callie.”
“You want to kiss me again?” She saw no reason to be coy.
“And how.”
She straightened to
her knees, and he scooted forward, rising to wrap his arm around her waist, meeting her lips in a deep kiss that sent instant arousal zinging through her. She wobbled for a second, but he held her tight.
On their knees, their thighs were pressed together. Her breasts were flush against his chest, their bodies pressing intimately.
His kiss deepened. She tipped her head back, giving herself up to the taste and scent and sensation of Deacon.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he eased them both to the carpet. The strap of her dress slipped from her shoulder. He kissed the tip. The intimacy of his hot lips on her skin made her soften with escalating desire.
Her body liquefied, melted against him. He slid his hand up her bare thigh, firm, certain and direct. He kissed her neck, then her mouth. He traced her lips with his fingertip. She touched his finger with her tongue, and he groaned, his other hand flexing on her inner thigh.
She knew what was coming.
She wanted it badly.
But she had to be honest. She had to be fair.
“Deacon,” she tried, but no sound came out.
“Deacon,” she tried again, managing a whisper.
“Hmm?” he asked before kissing her neck.
“You know,” she said on a groan as his tongue laved her tender skin.
“I know,” he said.
She ordered herself to focus. “You know Frederick.”
Deacon interrupted the kiss.
She wouldn’t allow herself to stop. “Frederick had a spinal injury.”
Deacon drew back, looking somewhat dazed. “Are we really going to talk about your husband right now?”
“No. I mean...” She was afraid of getting this all wrong. “Yes.”
“Why?”
She could feel the atmosphere cooling. She had to get on with it. “Because...well...there’s something you should know. The boys were conceived through in-vitro fertilization.”
Deacon didn’t move. He didn’t say a word.
“I’m not telling you I’m a virgin,” she rushed on. “I mean, not technically. I’ve had two children. But...the truth is...I’ve never...” She felt her face heat in embarrassment.
He took his hand from her thigh.
“I’m afraid of doing this all wrong.” She took in his stunned expression. “I’m doing this all wrong, aren’t I?”
The Illegitimate Billionaire (Whiskey Bay Brides Book 4; Billionaire & Babies) Page 5