For the Sake of Their Son

by Catherine Mann

“I did try to call you,” she confessed softly, “right before I went in. But your phone went straight to voice mail. I tried after, too...I assumed you were off on an Interpol secret ‘walkabout’ for Colonel Salvatore.”

  “I was.” He’d done the math in his head. Knew the case he’d been working at the time.

  “I know I could have pushed harder and found you.” She shook her head regretfully. “I didn’t even leave a message. I’m so sorry for that. You may be able to move past it, but I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive myself.”

  He stayed silent, not sure what to say to make this right for both of them.

  “What would we have done if Malcolm and Conrad hadn’t kidnapped you from the bachelor party?”

  Damn good question. “I like to think I would have come to my senses and checked on you. I don’t know how the hell I let eleven months pass.”

  “Or how you found a fiancée so fast,” she blurted out. “You proposed to another woman barely three months after we slept together. Yes, that’s a problem for me.”

  He weighed his words carefully. “This may sound strange, but Gianna was the one who got shortchanged. I obviously didn’t care about her the way I should have. I wasn’t fair to her.”

  Her smile was tight. “Excuse me if I’m not overly concerned about being fair to Gianna. And from what I read in the news, she broke things off with you. Not the other way around. If she hadn’t left, would you have married her?”

  Stunned, he downshifted around a corner. She’d read about his breakup? She’d left, but kept tabs on him. If only he’d done the same with her, he would have known about Eli. As much as Elliot wanted to blame a remote Interpol stint for keeping him out of touch, he knew he should have followed up with Lucy Ann.

  Then why hadn’t he? She’d been so good to him, always there for him, always forgiving him. Damn it, he didn’t deserve her— Could that have been part of why he’d stayed away? Out of guilt for taking so much from her all their lives?

  That she could think he still wanted Gianna, especially after what he and Lucy Ann had just shared... Incomprehensible.

  “No. I didn’t want to marry her. We broke off the engagement. I knew it was inevitable. She just spoke first.”

  She nodded tightly. “Fine, I appreciate your honesty. I’m still not totally okay with the fact that you raced right back to her after we... Well, I’m just not okay with it. But I’m working on it.”

  Conrad had told him to grovel. Elliot scrounged inside himself for a way to give her what she needed.

  “Fair enough. At least I know where I stand with you.” He stared at the road ahead, struggling. Groveling was tougher than he’d expected after the way his father had beaten him to his knees so many times. “That was the hardest part about growing up with my old man. The uncertainty. I’m not saying it would have been okay if he’d punched me on a regular basis. But the sick feeling in my gut as I tried to gauge his moods? That was a crappy way to live.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Her hand fell to rest on his knee again. This time she didn’t pull away.

  “I know. You saved my sanity back then.” He placed his hand over hers. “I always knew it was you who let the air out of my dad’s tires that time in sixth grade.”

  She sat upright. “How did you know?”

  “Because you did it while I was away on that science fair trip. So I couldn’t be blamed or catch the brunt of his anger.” He rubbed her hand along the spot on her finger where he should have put a ring already. “Do I have the details correct?”

  “That was the idea. Couldn’t have your father get away with everything.”

  “He didn’t. Not in the end.” There’d never been a chance to make peace with his bastard of an old man—never a chance to confront him, either.

  “I guess there’s a sad sort of poetic justice that he died in a bar fight while you were off at reform school.”

  Her words surprised him. “You’re a bloodthirsty one.”

  “When it comes to protecting the people in my life? Absolutely.”

  She was freaking amazing. He couldn’t deny the rush of admiration for the woman she’d become—that she’d always been, just hidden under the weight of her own problems.

  And on the heels of that thought, more guilt piled on top of him for all the ways he’d let her down. Damn it all, he had to figure out how to make this right with her. He had to pull out all the stops as Conrad advised.

  Full throttle.

  He had to win her over to be his wife.

  * * *

  Lucy Ann sat on the terrace with Jayne Hughes, wondering how a woman who’d been separated for three years could now be such a happily contented wife and new mother. What was her secret? How had they overcome the odds?

  There was no denying the peaceful air that radiated off the bombshell blonde with her baby girl cradled in a sling. The Hughes family split their time between their home in Monte Carlo and a home in Africa, where Jayne worked as a nurse at a free clinic her husband funded along with another Alpha Brother. She made it all look effortless whether she was serving up luncheon on fine china or cracking open a boxed lunch under a sprawling shea butter tree.

  Lucy Ann patted her colicky son on his precious little back. He seemed to have settled to sleep draped over her knees, which wasn’t particularly comfortable, but she wasn’t budging an inch as long as he was happy.

  Jayne paused in her lengthy ramble about the latest addition to the pediatrics wing at the clinic to tug something from under the plate of petits fours. “Oh, I almost forgot to give you this pamphlet for Elliot.”

  “For Elliot?” She took it from Jayne, the woman’s short nails hinting at her more practical side. “On breast-feeding?”

  “He called Conrad with questions the other night.” She adjusted her daughter to the other breast in such a smooth transition the cloth baby sling covered all. “I don’t know why he didn’t just look it up on Google. Anyhow, this should tell him everything he needs to know.”

  “Thank you.” She tucked the pamphlet in her purse, careful not to disturb her son. “He didn’t tell me he called your husband for help.”

  “He was probably too embarrassed. Men can be proud that way.” She sipped her ice water, sun glinting off the Waterford crystal that Lucy Ann recalled choosing for a wedding gift to the couple.

  There’d been a time when tasks like that—picking out expensive trinkets for Elliot’s wealthy friends—had made her nervous. As if the wrong crystal pattern could call her out as an interloper in Elliot Starc’s elegant world. But it had taken walking away from the glitz and glamour to help her see it for what it really was...superficial trappings that didn’t mean a lot in the long run. Lucy Ann was far more impressed with Jayne’s nursing capabilities and her motherhood savvy than with what kind of place setting graced her table.

  “There’s a lot to learn about parenting,” Lucy Ann acknowledged. “Especially for someone who didn’t grow up around other kids.” She would have been overwhelmed without Aunt Carla’s help.

  And wasn’t it funny to think that, even though she’d traveled the globe with Elliot for a decade, she’d still learned the most important things back home in South Carolina?

  “I think it’s wonderful that he’s trying. A lot of men would just dump all the tough stuff onto a nanny.” Jayne shot a glance over her shoulder through the open balcony doors, somehow knowing Conrad had arrived without even looking.

  “I just suggested that it wouldn’t hurt to let someone else change the diapers,” said Mr. Tall, Dark and Brooding. “Who the hell wants to change a diaper? That doesn’t make me a bad human being.”

  Lucy Ann had to admit, “He has a point.”

  Jayne set her glass down. “Don’t encourage him.”

  Conrad chuckled as he reached for his daughter. “Lucy Ann, let me
know when you’re done. I promised Elliot I would drive you and the kidlet back to the condo. He said he’s running late at the track. Have fun, ladies. The princess and I are going to read the Wall Street Journal.”

  Conrad disappeared back into the house with his daughter, words about stocks and short sales carrying on the wind spoken in a singsong tone as if telling her a nursery rhyme.

  Lucy Ann leaned back in the chair and turned her water glass on the table, watching the sunlight refracting prisms off the cut crystal. “I envy your tight-knit support group. Elliot and I didn’t have a lot of friends when we were growing up. He was the kid always in trouble so parents didn’t invite him over. And I was too shy to make friends.”

  “You’re not shy anymore,” Jayne pointed out.

  “Not that I let people see.”

  “We’ve known you for years. I would hope you could consider us your friends, too.”

  They’d known each other, but she’d been Elliot’s employee. It wasn’t that his friends had deliberately excluded her, but Conrad had been separated for years, and only recently had the rest of them started marrying. She knew it would be easier for all of them if she made the effort here.

  “We’ll certainly cross paths because of Eli,” Lucy Ann said simply.

  “And Elliot?”

  The conversation was starting to get too personal for her comfort. “We’re still working on that.”

  “But you’re making progress.”

  “Have you been reading the tabloids?”

  “I don’t bother with those.” Jayne waved dismissively. “I saw the way you two looked at each other when Elliot dropped you off.”

  In spite of herself, Lucy Ann found herself aching to talk to someone after all, and Jayne seemed the best candidate. “He’s into the thrill of the chase right now. Things will go back to normal eventually.”

  “I’m not so sure I agree. He seems different to me.” Jayne’s pensive look faded into a grin. “They all have to grow up and settle down sometime.”

  “What about―” She didn’t feel comfortable discussing the guys’ Interpol work out in the open, so she simply said, “Working with the colonel after graduation and following a call to right bigger wrongs? How do they give that up to be regular family guys?”

  “Good question.” Jayne pinched the silver tongs to shuffle a petit four and fruit onto a dessert plate. “Some still take an active part once they’re married, but once the children start coming, things do change. They shift to pulling the strings. They become more like Salvatore.”

  “Mine is a bit wilder than yours.” When had she started thinking of Elliot as hers? Although on some level he’d been hers since they were children. “I mean, seriously, he crashes cars into walls for a living.”

  “You’ve known that about him from the start. So why are things different now?”

  “I don’t know how to reconcile our friendship with everything else that’s happened.” The whole “friends with benefits” thing was easier said than done.

  “By ‘everything else’ you mean the smoking hot sex, of course.” Jayne grinned impishly before popping a grape in her mouth.

  “I had forgotten how outspoken you can be.”

  “Comes with the territory of loving men like these. They don’t always perceive subtleties.”

  True enough. Lucy Ann speared a chocolate strawberry and willed herself not to blush at the heated memories the fruit evoked. “Outspoken or not, I’m still no closer to an answer.”

  Jayne nudged the gold-rimmed china plate aside and leaned her arms on the table. “You don’t have to reconcile the two ways of being. It’s already done—or it will be once you stop fighting.”

  Could Jayne be right? Maybe the time had come to truly give him a chance. To see if he was right. To see if they could really have a fairy-tale life together.

  Fear knotted her gut, but Lucy Ann wasn’t the shy little girl anymore. She was a confident woman and she was all-in.

  * * *

  Elliot shrugged out of his black leather jacket with a wince as he stepped into the dark apartment. He’d done his prelim runs as always, checklists complete, car scrutinized to the last detail, and yet somehow he’d damn near wiped out on a practice run.

  Every muscle in his body ached from reactionary tensing. Thank goodness Lucy Ann hadn’t been there as she would have been in the past as his assistant. He didn’t want her worrying. He didn’t want to risk a confrontation.

  He tossed the jacket over his arm, walking carefully so he wouldn’t wake anyone up. His foot hooked on something in the dark. He bit back a curse and looked down to find...a book? He reached to pick up an ornately bound copy of Hansel and Gretel. He started to stand up again and looked ahead to find a trail of books, all leading toward his bedroom. He picked up one book after the other, each a different fairy tale, until he pushed open his door.

  His room was empty.

  Frowning, he scanned the space and... “Aha...”

  More books led to the bathroom, and now that he listened, he could hear the shower running. He set the stack on the chest of drawers and gathered up the last few “crumbs” on his trail, a copy of Rapunzel and a Victorian version of Rumpelstiltskin. Pushing his way slowly into the bathroom, he smiled at the shadowy outline behind the foggy glass wall. The multiple showerheads shot spray over Lucy Ann as she hummed. She didn’t seem to notice he’d arrived.

  He peeled off his clothes without making a sound and padded barefoot into the slate-tiled space. He opened the door and stepped into the steam. Lucy Ann stopped singing, but she didn’t turn around. The only acknowledgment she gave to his arrival was a hand reaching for him. He linked fingers with her and stepped under the warm jets. The heat melted away the stress from his muscles, allowing a new tension to take hold. He saw the condom packet in the soap dish and realized just how thoroughly she’d thought this through.

  He pressed against her back, wrapping his arms around her. Already, his erection throbbed hard and ready, pressed between them.

  He sipped water from just behind her ear. “I’m trying to think of what fairy tale you’re fantasizing about, and for water, I can only come up with the Frog Prince.”

  Angling her head to give him better access to her neck, she combed her fingers over his damp hair. “We’re writing our own fantasy tonight.”

  Growling his approval, he slicked his hands over her, taking in the feel of her breasts peaking against his palms. His blood fired hotter through his veins than the water sluicing over them. He slipped a hand between her thighs, stroking satin, finding that sweet bundle of nerves. Banding his arm tighter around her waist, he continued to circle and tease, feeling her arousal lubricate his touch. She sagged back against him, her legs parting to give him easier access.

  With her bottom nestled against him, he held on to control by a thread. Each roll of her hips as she milked the most from her pleasure threatened to send him over the edge. But he held back his own release, giving her hers. He tucked two fingers inside her, his thumb still working along that pebbled tightness.

  Her sighs and purrs filled the cubicle, the jasmine scent of her riding the steam. Every sound of her impending arousal shot a bolt of pleasure through him, his blood pounding thicker through his veins. Until, yes, she cried out, coming apart in his arms. Her fingernails dug deep into his thighs, cutting half-moons into his flesh as she arched into her orgasm.

  He savored every shiver of bliss rippling her body until he couldn’t wait any longer. He took the condom from the soap tray and sheathed himself. He pressed her against the shower stall wall, her palms flattened to the stone. Standing behind her, he nudged her legs apart and angled until... He slid home, deep inside her, clamped by damp silken walls as hot and moist as the shower.

  Sensation engulfed him, threatened to shake the ground under him as he p
ushed inside her again and again. Things moved so damn fast... He was so close... Then he heard the sound of her unraveling in his arms. The echoes of her release sent him over the edge. Ecstasy rocked his balance. He flattened a hand against the warm wall to keep from falling over as his completion pulsed until his heartbeat pounded in his ears. Shifting, he pulled out of her, keeping one arm around her.

  Slowly, his world expanded beyond just the two of them, and he became aware of the water sheeting over them. The patter of droplets hitting the door and floor.

  Tucking her close again, he thought about his near miss at the track today and all the relationship advice from his friends. He’d waited too long these past eleven months to make sure she stayed with him. Permanently. He wouldn’t let another minute pass without moving forward with their lives.

  He nuzzled her ear. “What kind of house do you want?”

  “House?” she asked, her knees buckling.

  He steadied her. “I want to build a real house for us, Lucy Ann. Not just condos or rented places here and there.”

  “Umm...” She licked her lips. The beads on her temple mingled perspiration with water. “What city would you choose?”

  He had penthouse suites around the world, but nowhere he stayed long enough to call home. And none of them had the room for a boy to run and play.

  “I need a home. We need a home for our son.”

  “You keep assuming we’ll stay together.”

  Already his proposal was going astray. Could be because most of the blood in his brain was surging south. “Where do you want to live? I’ll build two houses next door if that’s the way you want it.” Living near each other would give him more time to win her over, because he was fast realizing he couldn’t give her up. “I have connections with a friend who restores historic homes.”

  She turned in his arms, pressing her fingers to his lips. “Can we just keep making love instead?”

  Banding her wrist in his hand, he kissed it, determined not to let this chance slip away, not to let her slip away again. “Let’s get married.”