by Crowe, Liz
They had all agreed not to emphasize biology with regard to the boy’s parentage. Blake and Rob would be his father, period, regardless of who had fertilized the egg. But in the days, weeks, and months since Blake’s death she’d pondered a blood test, to know for sure, hoping the baby was Blake’s so she could consider that his legacy for her. Rob had balked at that idea. She knew he wanted that piece of Blake as well, and didn’t want to be disappointed if they discovered Rob was indeed Gabe’s biological father. The older he got, the more of Blake she believed she saw in his personality but didn’t want to project and so just accepted what he was—her beautiful, blond little boy. Who was truly a near mirror image of the man holding her now.
“It’s not rocket science. Neither of you guys were cut out to manage a restaurant that’s all. You wanted to manage your kitchen, Blake his brewery. And you kept hiring dumbasses to handle the front of the house for you. I’m organized and know how to deal with the staff. No big deal.” She started to sit but Rob gripped her arm.
“Please, come back home, Lila. I…I miss you. I miss us so much.”
She shivered at his words. “I don’t know, Rob. I mean, maybe you and I aren’t meant to be. Not without—”
Rob’s broad shoulders slumped and he looked so completely bereft it was almost funny, if it weren’t so shitty. She let her gaze travel down his apron-covered torso and her palm itched to untie it, to hold him and kiss him until he couldn’t stand it another minute. A bright pulse of erotic energy hit her core, making her gasp. She watched him clench and unclench his fists, then sit again, running his hand through his hair. She couldn’t resist. She touched it, ran her fingers through its silky yellow softness.
The bartenders called out and she waved to them. The main lights flickered then went off, plunging them into dark. His eyes held hers, their deep brown lit from the street. “I need you,” she whispered. Then she pulled him to his feet, wrapped herself around him. The kiss spoke words she wished she could say and hoped he heard.
Just when he gripped her hair to hold her closer she tore herself away. “I need this,” she whispered as she untied his apron. He stayed still as it dropped to the floor and she popped the button on his jeans. “Please,” she leaned into his ear as she slid the zipper down and fisted his shaft. He groaned as she pushed him back towards the bar then went down on her knees. He tasted just like she remembered, and the tilt of hips, the sweet sound of his moans as she kept her fist moving and sucked the head of his cock between her lips were like music to her ears.
She slipped her other hand under his balls, stroked the smooth skin there. He gripped her hair. “Lila,” He grunted. “Stop.” But she didn’t.
Suddenly she was on her feet, folded into his arms and he was bending her back over the table, sending all their charts, phones and one empty beer glass to the floor. He ripped her panties off with one flick of his wrist, shoved her skirt up. “Oh, yes. Robert,” she threaded her fingers in his hair, met his lips and they cried out as one. The glorious feel of her man inside her, finally, again, made her want to cry but she didn’t. “Fuck me, hard. Now.”
“God,” He gripped her ass, thrust deep and slow then withdrew, biting down on her lower lip when she tightened herself around him. “Oh hell yes,” He moaned into her neck increasing his rhythm, pounding into her, making the table’s iron base screech against the concrete floor. She wrapped her legs around him, leaned her head back and let the orgasm lift her, take her and spin her around. “Damn, I have missed that,” He said, looking deep into her soul as she pulsed and thrummed from the climax.
She held his face in her hands, kept moving her hips. “Come now, Robert. Give it to me. Give me all of it.” He shuddered, then kissed her and did as he was told.
She shivered, held him close. “I love you. But I’m not moving back in. Not yet. We have a long way to go, and I want to make sure you’re sure. That you aren’t just doing this because you think you have to. Because of Gabe, or Blake’s memory or whatever.”
He withdrew from her, stood, and zipped his jeans back up. She sat on the edge of the table, terrified but certain. “That’s fine,” he picked up the apron. “I’ll get the broom.” He started to turn but she grabbed his arm.
“Don’t shut down on me. I mean it. I want us to handle this together. To grieve together. And I want to plan a two-year memorial for him at the lake house.”
Rob shut his eyes. But she kept talking. “Listen to me, please.” He opened them, and the pain there she knew matched what she felt every damn day. “I want you, I want us to be together. I want another baby. I want to sell that house filled with everything that was Blake and buy another one. But I want something else even more. I want you to be certain you really love me.”
He sucked in a breath, let the silence spin out about a half minute too long for her taste. She let go of him. “I’ll clean it up. Go home. Gabe’s at your house this week, and we both know he won’t sleep unless you’re there.”
Rob opened his mouth, but Lila shook her head. Proud of herself but at the same time miserable for what she may still yet lose, she watched as he went out the back door of the kitchen without another word.
Lila rang the doorbell, realizing that, although they worked together flawlessly at the pub, the icy silence they’d maintained a couple of weeks after their quickie on the table did not bode well for her little speech. Rob opened the door, holding a kitchen towel and looking his devastating best in dark denim and a soft blue oxford cloth button down. His hair was wet from a shower, his jaw freshly shaven. She lifted her chin as a bright shaft of unhappiness hit her. “Got a date?”
He opened the door further so she could enter. The place had obviously been cleaned by a service as it was as neat as a pin and that was one thing Rob was incapable of, something she’d taken on with glee when they’d been together. And it smelled absolutely amazing. The odors of rich olive oil, peppers, garlic and something like… she sniffed. “Is that bacon?” She was a no slouch in the kitchen herself, but Rob was an artist of the highest degree. Maddie was hooked on the Food Channel and swore Rob should have his own show—a cross between that guy who cursed all the time and made people feel like idiots and the host of a popular chef contest.
“Yeah,” he ran his hand across his hair nervously. “Thought it was about time I did something in my own kitchen again.” She smiled.
“Good for you,” she put her hand against his cheek. He leaned into it but stayed quiet. “Where’s…?”
Rob handed her a glass of wine. “He’s out, with the sitter. He wanted ice cream, and I wanted some privacy so,” he shrugged, his brown eyes twinkling over the rim of his glass. Her heart stuttered a little but she frowned.
“Robert….”
He took her hand and pulled her to him, setting both their glasses on a nearby table. “I love it when you call me that. Say it again,” his breath tickled, made her shiver and clench up inside. Nuzzling her neck, kissing his way up to her lips, he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I love you. Come back home.”
The kiss was long, deep and left her gasping. “Let’s spare the glassware this time shall we?” He mumbled and picked her up. He carried her to the bedroom, eased her down and plucked her clothes off in that magician’s way he had, kissing every single inch of her, until he reached her sex. She fisted his hair and yelled his name again and again, as he sucked and stroked her to a couple of back-to-back orgasms.
“Jesus,” she whispered, her hand over her eyes as he licked his way back up.
“Fucking-A you taste great,” he growled, hovering over her. He’d removed his shirt but kept his jeans on.
“Show me,” she whispered as she slid his zipper down. He yanked his jeans off and plunged into her mouth, sweeping in with his tongue giving her a taste of herself, groaning when she held onto his cock. “Give me this.” She demanded, breaking from his lips.
“Bossy. Nice. That is something I can get used to.” He rolled over onto his back pulling
her on top of him. Lila allowed herself a split second of sheer joy at the feel of him and the sight of his genuine smile.
“Da!” Gabe’s delighted voice and his footsteps in the hall forced her up and into the bathroom. Rob cursed, put his jeans back on and stepped out of the room.
“Where is he? Where’s my boy?” His low voice boomed. She heard him talking to the sitter, as she pulled on her panties. Grabbing his soft blue shirt from the floor, loving the musky subtle cologne of him against her skin she walked out into the living room and put her hand over her mouth at the sight of them—of her boys. Rob sat on the couch, their son on his lap, holding him close as Gabe’s eyes drooped.
He brightened at the sight of her. “Ma,” he yelped, holding out his hand. “Want. Bank. ‘mere.” She dropped down next to Rob, put the boy’s hand to her lips, and wiped some of the ice cream off his face. As she did her Gabe translation and handed him the blanket he’d just asked for her heart swelled, and tears threatened but she held them back. Gabe hated it when she cried. Would pat her face with paper towels or anything he could find, hoping to make her stop, sensing her unhappiness and channeling it into himself. “Da,” he sighed, closing his eyes. Rob put his arm around Lila and they sat together, listening to the heavenly sound of their son breathing in his sleep.
Rob got to his feet, held out his hand and they walked back to put Gabe in his bed. After covering him with a the light blue blanket, he touched the boy’s face then turned to her where she stood in the doorway. “You were right,” he said, pulling her out into the hall. She stopped. “I wasn’t letting you in. I was grieving alone, but I had to. Blake was,” he gulped. “He was my entire world, for a long time even though I had a hell of a time convincing him of that. Then you came along and my universe expanded even farther. Then I was dying. And now I’m alive, thanks to him. It’s an awful lot to take on board.”
She stayed quiet. But he pulled her closer, curving her petite form against his tall one. He ran a hand down her face. “And now what I have, my world, is here, with you and him, and Maddie.” He brushed her lips with his. “I’m a dumbass for even thinking that you would want me after how awful I’ve been. But,” he swallowed, lowered his face to hers. “Come back. Please. Bring Maddie and move back in. I need you. I want to adopt her, so she can share my name. I want to …”
She put a finger over his lips, afraid to hear what he would say next, even though part of her wanted to hear it so badly. He kissed her so hard her head spun, and before she knew it she was back on their bed, the shirt and his jeans discarded. She pulled him on top of her, reached back for the condom drawer. She was incapable of taking the pill—every one she tried gave her debilitating migraine headaches. And this was a very dangerous time of the month for her. As much as she wanted another baby with him this soon was likely unwise and would only cause… “Oh,” she whispered, as he pulled her hand back and slid into her body one delicious inch at a time.
“Let’s try this again, shall we?” He muttered, hovering over her lips. She nodded, figuring it was a crapshoot and knowing her it would lead to one thing. But the moment was too perfect, and so she rolled the dice and let it happen.
Later, she dozed on his chest, and was startled awake by the harsh jangling of his phone on the bedside table. He reached for it, pulling her back down. She ran her hand across the light blond hair covering his chest. His voice rumbled in her ear. But he sat quickly, forcing her to move aside. His eyes were dark with anger. “He did what?” He climbed out of the warm nest of their sheets, and Lila watched him pace, admiring the lean strength of his legs, and ass. She tingled all over. Yeah, not a good time of the month at all. She groaned and lay back, pretending that she didn’t know that she was likely pregnant that very moment. “Fuck, are you kidding me? Sara, come on.” She was immediately alert. She shot him a look but he turned away. “Okay calm down, calm down. I’ll…shit…I’ll talk to him. Tonight, I promise. You go ahead and go. I’ll send him when I’m done.” He touched the screen to end the call, yanked on shorts and a tee shirt and sat, head in his hands.
“My friend is a class-A idiot.”
She sat on her knees behind him, wrapped her arms around his neck. He kissed her hand, tugged her around so she lay cradled in his arms. “Let me guess,” she said into his chest.
“You get two, and the first one doesn’t count.” He said, holding her tight.
“What can you do, Rob? I mean, they have their own…,” she let her voice trail off. Who was she kidding? Rob felt responsible for Sara and Jack both, always had. So, she stood. He grabbed his twice-discarded shirt and helped her into it.
“Stay here, dressed like this.” He put his large warm hand over her sex. “Just like this, still wet from me.” He kissed her, cupped her breast, brushing her nipple making her squirm.
“Better go now, or I won’t be sharing you with your friend tonight Robert.” She said over her shoulder as she sashayed down the hall to the kitchen. He washed his hands, and fed her a few bites of the delicate stir fry with his fingers. They giggled and groped like horny teenagers, then had another quick, rough fuck up against the kitchen counter. “Jesus!” She cried out when she climaxed so hard she was momentarily blinded.
He groaned, clutching her ass with one hand and holding them up against the island with the other. She bit down on his shoulder, the taste and smell of him, sharp and sweet, filling all her senses. “Ah, yes, well, no, it’s only me, Rob.” He kissed her breasts, gave her nipples one last lick before pulling out and setting her back on the floor. She wobbled and nearly fell over. He laughed and picked her up, tossing her over his shoulder while she squealed and smacked his ass. After dropping her in the shower under a steaming hot spray, he leaned on the door, smiling at her with that goofy, post-climax face. “I gotta go,” he ran a hand down his face.
“Don’t want to join me?” She wiggled her hips, relishing the soreness between her legs and the lightening in her heart.
“Nah,” he zipped himself into his jeans and grabbed the shirt she’d been wearing. “I like how I smell.” He leaned in to tweak her nipple. “Like Lila.”
She smacked him away. “So, what has Jack done and what are you planning to do about it.”
He groaned and looked up at the bathroom ceiling. “He’s pulled a classic Gordon move, and I gotta go reassure myself and his wife it’s just a big misunderstanding. I believe it is. But I’m ready to beat it out of him, I assure you.”
Lila frowned. “Well, hopefully, it won’t come to that. He and Sara are supposed to be going away this weekend. Mo has the kids, but I was going to have them all over for…,” she stopped.
Rob shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’ll make up with Katie, I promise. I know she blames me somehow, and I’ve been avoiding it. But I won’t now. It will be fine. I’ll be late, likely, but I will be back I swear and you had better be as naked as you are right now, between the sheets of our bed, when I get home.”
Chapter Sixteen
Mo twirled around in her leather chair, toying with the ends of her hair. She glanced at her computer calendar listening while Sara gave the details of her big plan. She’d secured a private condo for the next four days down in Georgia, on one of the barrier islands at an exclusive resort that promised the “total experience” she was looking for with her husband—plus a world class golf course. “Sounds great,” she said, as the words: Player Conference flashed from her calendar like a beacon of doom. “So you have him all packed and everything? Cleared his calendar? When are you telling him?”
Sara’s voice was breathy, excited. It made Mo smile. “I’m going to his office this evening around six. Jason said he had a five o’clock but was done after that. I’ll have the car packed and tickets ready. Flight out is at ten.”
“Well played sister. I’ll pick the kids up ….” She stopped.
“Wait, today’s the day, isn’t it?”
Mo gulped. “Yes,” she croaked. “Christ, why am I so nervous?” She put a shakin
g had to her face.
Sara laughed. “Sister, you are gonna rock that boy’s world. And I want every sordid detail, you hear me?”
“Yeah, whatever. It’s a bad idea. I can’t do it.”
“The hell you can’t. If I have to I’ll guide him straight to your….”
“Spare me, Sara.”
“Besides, it sounds like Senor Inez is gonna be a part of our little soccer world. A bit of a fixture in the new program.”
“Yeah, he told me. We, um, talk pretty much every night now.”
“God I hate phone sex. Thank goodness this is your chance to end all that crap.”
Mo felt herself blush, as Rafe’s last words the night before raced straight through her libido like a wildfire. “I will have you Maureen. And you won’t be sorry.”
“Okay, so good luck to you,” she said, determined to guide the conversation away from her own anticipated jumping of the soccer coach’s bones. She’d agreed to a date, after the conference. They were supposed to go to dinner, somewhere, she couldn’t even remember where at this point, she was so overheated at the thought of what would come later.
“Thanks,” Sara said. “I hope…I hope I can pull this off. It’s, um gonna shock the shit out your brother.” There was a silence. “I’m nervous.”
“He could stand some of that, trust me.” Mo said. “I love you, Sara. Make it happen. Don’t let him go.”
“Love you too sister. Have fun. Arriba!”
Mo stared at the phone, still shocked she’d told Sara about the date, about any of it. She’d not had close women friends in years, not since her years on base in Germany. And all the anger she’d harbored at Sara’s behavior during Katie’s early years seemed like something she’d never get past. Until she really got to know Sara, to feel her frustration, and acknowledged that life married to Jack could be a little aggravating.
She hit send on a couple of emails to some potential building clients, made a few notes for Monday and shut everything down. “I’m heading out Mrs. Perkins.” She tried to sound breezy as she walked past her assistant. “Have a nice weekend.”