by Dani Collins
Nevertheless, after his talk with Jaya last night, his terror at taking on the role of a father was worse, not better. He knew why, too. He still feared failing, but not because of the threat of violence. He couldn’t stand the idea of disappointing Jaya.
* * *
Jaya came out of her bathroom to find Zephyr’s cot empty and rushed out to the main room where she found Theo cradling their son like he’d been doing it all his life.
Her blood thickened to such sweet molasses, she couldn’t move. Her limbs ached and felt weak.
She must have gasped because he glanced up and touched a finger to his lips, then tilted his head to see into Zephyr’s tranquil face. In slow motion, like he was handling a chemical bomb, he tucked Zephyr next to his sleeping cousins on the floor and drew their blanket over him.
She was done. Finished. Melted into a puddle on the floor that housekeeping would have to mop up and wring out of the strings.
He added a final blow by fetching his phone off the dining table and snapping a picture of the children piled together like a litter of kittens.
Removing the hand she’d pressed to her mouth, she accused in a whisper, “You’re sentimental.”
He shrugged, striding toward the kitchenette where he set his phone on the table and began making coffee. “We’re not likely to catch them all together like that again, are we? Not all asleep.”
The breath she took was coated in powdered glass. “I thought about sending the photo from last night to your sister, but you haven’t told her, have you? Will you?”
He slowed his movements. “Since she’s my boss and it starts with explaining that I slept with an employee—”
“Not technically.”
He kicked up a brow, unimpressed with the fine line. “Still not the best example.” He pushed the button that started the espresso maker. “And I’m still wrapping my head around it. I’d rather keep things simple until I know how we’re going to proceed.”
She tried to hide her disappointment, then thought, Why should I?
“That’s not really fair to Zephyr, is it? I mean, they’re his cousins.” She waved at the bumps under the blanket. “My relationship with Saranya was the most important of my life.” Not an understatement. “We grew up together and when I needed her, she was there. You don’t just call a cousin out of the blue when your life implodes. Not unless you’ve been close all along.”
She braced against his asking her how her life had imploded, but he only folded his arms and hitched a hip against the counter.
“I didn’t think of it like that. I keep thinking how much they’re like us. The age mix is different, of course. I’m barely a year younger than Adara and Demitri is almost four years younger than me, but we were only a few years older than Evie and practically left to raise ourselves. Adara was all I had for a mother figure and she was looking after Demitri. I guess some part of me thought it was too much to ask of Evie and Androu to take on Zephyr, but they have functioning parents.”
“So does he,” she reminded, wishing she could be amused by his almost naïve misreading of the situation, but it was so tragic. “Is that why Adara always seems so...” She searched for the right word to describe her former boss that wouldn’t insult the whole family. “I always thought you and she seemed very introspective.”
He snorted. “You mean aloof? Distant? Cold? I’ve been called worse and yeah, we’re not the most demonstrative family, but Adara did the best she could. I can’t fault her. I’d do anything for her.”
Ignoring the pang of jealousy that struck, she listened deeper, hearing exactly how far he was willing to go on his sister’s behalf.
“Did you step in to protect her from your father?” Part of her knew she shouldn’t ask. She didn’t want to open up her own wounds and show them off so she couldn’t expect him to, but her heart ached for the boy he’d been.
He flinched and turned away to set a tiny cup on a silver saucer. “Not that it did much good. She still caught her share. Demitri was the one we worried about. He was so little.”
“Oh, Theo. And you think you’re not cut out to be a father?”
“Have you seen how Demitri turned out? If that’s my work, I’d be scared. The man’s a menace.” He offered her the first coffee.
“You have that one. I like mine with steamed milk.” She stepped into place before the machine and filled the receptacles. “And yes, I have met your brother. Thank goodness for the repellant that is the Makricosta uniform because we all would have been pregnant. He’s very adept with the ladies.”
“Were you attracted to him?” His sharp gaze made her very aware of her nakedness under the robe she’d pulled on when she’d realized Zephyr had been stolen from his cot.
“I can’t deny he’s good-looking, but no, not really attracted.” Not the same way I’m attracted to you. She pretended that the spurt of coffee and steamed milk required close attention, using it to hide the betraying longing she shouldn’t be feeling toward him.
“A year and a half ago you weren’t dating because your career was too important. Now Zephyr’s in the way, isn’t he?”
“I wouldn’t put it like that, but he’s definitely a factor. I’m not about to introduce a string of men into his life. So yes, between him and what’s been going on at home and starting my new job I haven’t had time to date. But dating has never been a priority so I don’t miss it.” There, that glossed nicely over her reasons for still avoiding men.
Yet here she stood, vulnerable in a thin robe held closed by a slippery tie, in the presence of a virile man who could overwhelm her without even trying.
Would he try? She sidled her gaze over his broad chest. He was wearing yesterday’s shirt that still had some of his nephew’s supper on it. That made him seem very human and normal. If he crushed her against that stained cotton, her heart would sing.
When she glanced up, she found him staring into the part of her lapels where her upper chest was exposed. Behind the light satin of the robe, her nipples tightened. Why him, she wondered, but didn’t actually care. It was just such a delightfully good sensation to react to a man.
With a harsh inhale, he visibly pulled himself together and looked away. “Are you still sending money home?”
Her sensual curiosity drained away.
“Yes.” She didn’t elaborate and deliberately put space between them, taking her coffee to the breakfast bar and positioning herself so she could see the kids if they moved. Partly it was decent child minding, but at a deeper level, she was confused and trying to figure out why she longed for Theo to make a move on her when she was still stinging from his dropping her from his life.
“Have you told your family about Zephyr?” he asked.
A spike of grief pierced her as fresh as the day her family had first shunned her, hanging up on her because she had dared to run away to live with Saranya, rather than stay in the ruin they all considered her life had become. “Put it this way. If you don’t acknowledge him, my cousin’s daughter and Quentin are his only support after me.”
Silence. When she glanced back, he was scowling toward the lounge, arms folded in frustration. “There are plenty of people with old-fashioned views in America, but it still surprises me they’d ostracize you for having a baby out of wedlock.”
She sipped her coffee, ignoring the opening to tell him it was more than that. She shouldn’t feel ashamed, but there was also the bit where she’d have to explain that the steps she’d taken to leave India weren’t entirely legal.
“Would—”
He didn’t continue so she dragged her gaze to his again, finding him looking something like he had that night in Bali: slightly defensive, rumpled but gorgeous in spite of it. His jaw was stubbled, his hair disheveled, but his proud bearing and those hollow cheeks above a strong jawline made him one of those men who would g
et better looking with age.
There was no sign of uncertainty in his tall, solid stillness. His expression was impassive, as if he was asking after her plans for the day.
“Would it mend fences with your family if we married?”
He couldn’t have hurt her more if he’d walked right by her yesterday at the hangar and pretended he didn’t see her. She wasn’t a romantic. After being sexually assaulted, she had quit dreaming of the perfect man sweeping her off her feet with a proposal that made her cry happy tears—except possibly if it came from him.
Seriously, Jaya, you have to let this infatuation die.
But one thing she knew she wanted in any marriage proposal was for love to form the underpinning of it.
“Probably,” she answered, forcing herself to reply honestly, but the word choked her. She had to sip at her coffee to clear her voice into working order. Eyes on the sleeping cherubs, she added, “But my country is full of women who married because they felt they had no other choice. I do have a choice and I’m not interested.”
Another thick silence.
He had to be relieved, but she didn’t glance over to interpret what he might be thinking. Her insides ached too much, especially near her heart. If he saw it, he’d know how much she longed for something deeper from him and that could send him running again, making Zephyr suffer for her foolishness.
For such a powerful, confident man, he was awfully gun-shy about being close to people. Given what she’d learned about him, she could see how he’d fear betrayal of the worst kind lurked behind the slightest show of warmth. His warnings against trying to fix him burned bright in her mind. It added up to a hopeless basis for a marriage so she felt compelled to douse any spark of that talk.
“I should answer some emails while I have the chance,” she murmured, pushing herself into motion. “I won’t have much chance to work through the rest of the day.”
Theo watched her walk away, his tired body stirred by the graceful way she moved while the rest of him throbbed with rejection. Funny how he’d got used to women at least wanting to marry him for his money.
Not that he’d asked Jaya to marry him. He’d been careful to phrase his question as a broad request for information, not sure why he’d brought it up when she’d said last night that she wasn’t looking for money or a ring.
Still, the fact she wasn’t even nibbling at the possibility of sharing her life with him was quite a slap.
But why would she want to tie herself to him? What did he offer besides money? He circled the globe every quarter, could barely change a diaper and was incapable of love. She was right to dismiss the mention of marriage.
It still left him hollow and empty.
Which was probably exaggerated by the fact he hadn’t slept. As Jaya disappeared into her room, he moved to stand over the sleeping babies. They looked pretty zonked, but he couldn’t take the chance of lying down on the sofa and failing to wake if they stirred. Androu was sprawled like a starfish, but Zephyr had rolled himself close to Evie.
Stealing a cushion from the sofa as a pillow, Theo settled on his side behind Zephyr then gently rested his arm across Evie’s legs and settled one hand on Androu’s knee. Reassured he’d hear and feel them if they woke, he let himself doze.
CHAPTER EIGHT
FEED, PLAY, CHANGE, swim, nap, change, read, play, change... The day was eaten up quickly with the wash, rinse, spin cycle of baby-wrangling.
“How do parents of twins manage?” he asked when Jaya returned from taking a phone call in her room. Technically he was on vacation, although his boss would definitely get an earful over how relaxing this particular one had been, but Jaya was putting out fires from downstairs at the rate of two or three an hour while minding children at the same time. “What if they have triplets? Or more? How do you manage?”
He’d given so many horsey-rides on his ankle, he would need a knee replacement, but Zephyr showed no sign of tiring.
Jaya smiled. “I wasn’t working when I first left Bali. Saranya needed me and so did her daughter. Saranya tried to hang on until I delivered, but...”
She ducked her head, taking a moment. Obviously talking about it was difficult and he had an unexpected urge to physically reach out to her. It hurt him to see her hurting, but he had his hands full and had never been one to act on impulses, especially touchy-feely ones.
Still, he was sorry he couldn’t somehow comfort her when he saw how she struggled to lift a brave face.
“By the time she passed, I was so pregnant there was no point in applying for a job. I landed this one about six months ago, but I still live with Quentin. He and I pay a neighbor to watch Bina and Zeph and spell each other off if she’s not available. Quentin’s been home for most of the year, doing research, so his schedule has been flexible. He’ll be starting a new film soon, though. He makes documentaries and the next one will take him to South America. Bina is pressing me to go with them. Saranya and Bina always lived on location with him. I’m pleased with my life here, though, and Quentin doesn’t need the money. I wish he’d stay, but he keeps saying work will take his mind off his grief.” She shrugged and added in a pained tone, “They loved each other very much.”
Theo had never wanted to fall in love and she’d just showcased another reason why it was a bad idea. Quentin’s barely suppressed rage came back to him and he felt damned sorry for the bastard.
Nevertheless, he couldn’t quit thinking about marriage.
“I’m surprised you’re not plugged into the mother ship,” Jaya teased, obviously trying to deflect from her own pain and lighten the mood. “I’ve never seen you go so long without at least one electronic device in hand.”
“Haven’t you?” he asked, taking a less than subtle stab at testing their shared memory. He was still raw from her rejection and wanted to remind her there had been something really good between them once. He wanted to know if this attraction was still burning as brightly on her side as it was on his.
She stalled in swiping across her tablet. Her cheeks, tanned to semi-sweet chocolate by their hour in the pool, seemed to darken. Her tongue flicked along her bottom lip in a betrayal of discomfiture that otherwise remained hidden behind her impassive expression and lowered lashes.
One of the unique things about Jaya was her subtlety. Where other women threw themselves at his money and position, she’d always seemed unimpressed. Not repelled or disgusted, but not moved, either. From things she’d said, he’d deduced that her cousin’s husband had supported her to a degree, but she supported herself now and sent money to her family in India. She’d started at the bottom in Makricosta’s, changing bedding and scrubbing toilets. She knew what it was to make do on a limited income, but she’d never tried to flirt or use her body to lift her circumstances or gain financial favors.
When it came to her womanly wiles, she didn’t project any of her hidden depths of passion. Despite being pretty and keeping herself well-groomed, she made no effort to lure a man. Her sexuality was understated, not obvious at all.
He appreciated that about her, not because he was a man who thought women should hide their sexuality, but because he was a circumspect man all around. He admired anyone capable of controlling his or her basic, animal urges.
On the other hand, being one of the few people who knew firsthand her capacity for passion was an erotic secret that strained his control. Every time the word marriage whispered through his mind, the most masculine parts of him relived holding her. There’d been a couple of women since—he’d been convinced he’d never see her again and had almost been trying to inoculate himself against going after her. It hadn’t worked and seeing her again was inducing the opposite: he kept imagining a lifetime of stroking smooth, warm skin, licking dark nipples that only grew more taut and firm against his tongue, pushing naked into hot, tight depths so wet and welcoming he’d nearly di
ed on the first thrust.
“I, um, just wondered if your sister gave you the day off so you could watch her son,” she finally said, not looking at him.
No outward acknowledgment of his leading comment. He’d pretend that wasn’t a sharp kick in the ego, even though they were long past pretending Bali hadn’t happened. Hell, he was holding the proof.
“The cruise was supposed to be a family reunion of sorts,” he explained. “Adara’s idea. All the siblings were together at my mother’s funeral, but it was hardly the time to catch up after not seeing Nic for twenty years. The cruise liner is a Makricosta hotel on a Vozaras ship so it would have been a working vacation, which is probably why Demitri was dragging his heels about showing up.”
“He’s quite the black sheep at times, isn’t he?”
“And yet our father liked him. Which is why he gets away with what he does, I suppose. No one ever told him he couldn’t.”
“He didn’t...I mean, your father never—?”
“Took a swing at him? No, I told you. Adara and I protected him. Kept him quiet when they were fighting, snuck food for him. Turned him into a spoiled brat, I suppose, but that’s better than what we went through.”
“You don’t resent him?”
“Why would I? He was a kid. It wasn’t his fault our father was a bastard.”
“No,” she agreed, eyes so liquid and dark he had to look away. “Only...”
Don’t say it, he thought, giving all his attention to where Zephyr was now using his belly as a trampoline. Being able to see that a grown man ought to have more control over his actions than a little boy didn’t make him empathetic. Being happy his brother hadn’t been knocked around didn’t make him paternal. It was common decency, that’s all.
She came into his periphery, but only to stroke a soft hand over her son’s head.
“He’s having fun. Would it be an imposition to leave him with you while I do a bit more work, just while the other two are sleeping?”