“We both made mistakes, Adrian. My mother always said two wrongs didn’t make a right, and I’ll own mine. I regret it. I can’t go back and change it, but I’ll do what’s right for my—our—son now.”
He knew she was referring to withholding Michael from him. Not the other perfidy. Could he move past what she’d done? All of it? He didn’t think so—trust was the cornerstone of everything. But maybe he could do a bit more than meet her halfway, and if he properly compartmentalized his feelings, Michael need never sense the rift. Jessie was superb at pigeonholing hers. It wasn’t like he and she were going to live together.
“We’ll discuss custody after lunch, during n—“ He somehow didn’t use the nap word and set Michael off again.
“All right.”
Macaroni and cheese wasn’t something he planned to have on a regular basis—especially with ketchup—but he manfully ate his share with Michael enjoying his. The boy was nearly nodding off before the last spoonful, and he again cleaned him up, treasuring the tiny hands with their surprising strength.
Jessie put him down, both tacitly agreeing that Michael had experienced enough today and while waiting for her to return, Adrian examined the day’s events and marveled at how well it had actually gone. Especially for a first time meeting and with two individuals who should have been circling one another like two junkyard dogs. Seemed they both wanted the best for their child.
“Want a coffee?” She slipped back toward the kitchen, and he watched her go, reminding his libido that he wasn’t considering any fringe benefits.
She was working the machine when he joined her, her movements sure and certain. Everything she did was that way—no hesitation, all confidence. Until she looked over her shoulder and met his eyes. A distinct flash of vulnerability in hers, underpinned with something else, flooded his senses.
The spark was also there, more pronounced even, and he pinched it out with an effort that surprised him. Jessie blinked and turned back to the sputtering nozzle. He went to retrieve the cups, avoiding any touch, and positioned himself at the island.
Joining him, she then reached for a cup, echoing their early morning meeting.
He tried to outwait her, business one-oh-one, and succeeded. She said, “Today went well.”
“It did.”
Another pause ensued, broken only by the faint hissing of the espresso machine, and the subtle purring of the refrigerator.
“What are you thinking about access, Adrian?”
He didn’t tell her he longed to tuck their son under his arm and run. “Michael is too young to split his time between our homes.”
She heaved a sigh of obvious relief. “That’s true. So, you’re willing to visit?”
He took a position that denoted power, using the distance the granite countertop placed between them and his superior height. Deciding a little charm wouldn’t hurt, he smiled. “Finding time for Michael won’t be an issue. But I want him to see my birthplace and meet his grandparents. Mama and Poppa don’t travel easily.”
Something twisted her pretty features. Regret? “I’d love for him to know his grandparents.”
“Something they’ve both missed.”
Stiffening, she said, “Are we going to keep revisiting this?”
Taking a deep breath through his nose, he replied, “I’ll try not to.”
“And I’ll try not to remind you of your unconscionable behavior.”
Gritting his teeth, he asked, “Did you know you were pregnant when we … parted?”
“Is that what you’re calling it?” She bit her lip, and he tore his stare away from her full mouth. She said, “Sorry. I slipped this time. But no, I didn’t know. And when I found out, all I could think of was the way we … parted.”
“What did you think I’d do?”
“I didn’t care to find out. I recall you saying you’d see me imprisoned if I didn’t cease all contact.”
Not wanting to think back to the rancorous discussion they’d had, nor argue further, he asked, “Can we agree that you and our son will accompany me in the near future to Greece?”
“As soon as we get a custody agreement in place.”
The businessman in him knew why she was insisting on the contract—he’d planned the same thing. His earlier assertion crumbled around the edges despite trying to be high-minded. She has another side to her.
Taking care not to add fuel to the fire, he said, “I’ll contact my lawyers immediately.”
She nodded. “And I’ll have mine review it.”
Standing, he noted her flinch as the stool slid back and he towered over her. Was she truly afraid of him? That fact might have brought him satisfaction not long ago, but did it now? “I can have it done in a short while. And I’d like to stop by this evening, help put Michael to bed.”
Her lids fluttered shut, thick lashes veiling her thoughts, but he had no difficulty reading her expression. She was hesitant.
“Have you had enough of my company, Jessie?” It was insane that he waited for the answer with bated breath.
“It’s fine.” She, too, stood and preceded him to the door. “We eat at five or shortly after. Michael goes down by seven.”
There was no invitation to the evening meal, and he chastised himself for resenting the lack. He had lawyers to visit and would use the time to ground himself away from her disconcerting influence and make an important call.
At the exit, he paused, Jessie close enough for him to scent her—floral perfume and warm woman—and he breathed her in, immediately regretting the memories it elicited. His unwanted reaction made him short with her.
“I’ll be here by six.”
Chapter Four
“Have you had enough of my company, Jessie?”
His question haunted her as she moved about her home, tidying and cleaning as she went, keeping an ear out for Michael waking. Too late, she considered what the child would think when he got up and didn’t find Adrian present.
Shrugging, she ran a cloth over the television—despite it being rarely turned on, it attracted an insane amount of dust. She thought again of Adrian’s question. Seeing him again had terrified and exhilarated her. The other gambit of emotions had woven throughout her psyche during the day.
At times, she’d forgotten the rancor—and it appeared he had, as well. They’d worked well together with Michael, though it was early days and a few hours didn’t mean it’d all be smooth sailing.
But yes, she’d had enough of his company, needed a break from all that masculinity and the memories that kept sideswiping her. Her body kept telling her one thing, her head, quite another. And she refused to let her heart have a vote because it clearly didn’t have two brain cells to rub together.
It had languished for three years, despite being shredded by the very man it longed for. And now he was back, regardless of the reason, the stupid thing was knitting itself back together and pounding away, battering as if to escape the confines of her chest. She knew exactly where it wanted to take refuge, clearly not understanding it wouldn’t survive another assault.
His parents. She halted in her dusting, clenching the fabric tightly. Mr. and Mrs. Mataskis were lovely people. She’d only just met them and been welcomed so kindly when Adrian falsely accused her and threw her out. She wondered what they’d think of her now, except she figured she knew. Not that it mattered. They’d be wonderful to their grandson, and that was the important thing.
A solitary burning tear slipped from her left eye and meandered down her cheek. With a sigh, she dashed it away. She’d cried enough tears over Adrian.
“Mommy?” Her son’s childish voice broke the silence, and she called back to him, hastening to poke her head into his room.
He sat up in his little bed, knuckling his eyes before peering past her. “Daddy?”
“He went to work, sweetie, but he’ll be here after supper. He’ll read you a book.”
His little face screwed up and then relaxed. “Trucks.”
“I expect he’ll play those too. Now, hop up, and we’ll tidy your room.” Michael, for some reason, liked to help put his things away and she took advantage of that fact.
Pushing all thoughts of Adrian out of her head, she engaged with her son even as she thought about making dinner.
****
After presenting the lawyers with the reports provided by the private investigators and expressing his wishes, Adrian retreated to his office and closed the door. His assistant had given him a startled look, and he intuited she planned to show him something to do with work, so he adroitly avoided her.
It would be quite late in Greece, but his parents ate no earlier than eleven, so he’d be catching them with full bellies and relaxed from a few glasses of wine.
As he expected, once past the shock and pained reaction, not much different than his own, they demanded to see their grandson.
“I’m making those arrangements, Mama. It won’t be very long before we make travel plans.”
“So, she agrees that Michael should know his grandparents?”
“She does.” Remembering Jessie’s remorse, he added, “She regrets that our … antipathy created the estrangement. She has no family of her own.”
“That’s good then that she won’t stand in your way.” His mother’s tone was overjoyed. “I can’t wait.”
“He’s an amazing child.”
“Of course he is, with you as his father.”
He felt duty bound to indicate that Jessie was, to all intents and purposes, a good mother and his influence was only through his DNA.
His mother snorted. “Blood will tell. But if she’s raised him right then all the better.”
He laughed. “You’ll love him.”
“We already do.” His father’s tone was happy but cautious.
“What’s wrong, Papa?”
“I remember Jessie as being such a nice girl. Sweet. And well-informed without being arrogant. We liked her. Until…”
“We’ve agreed to put that in the past and leave it there. We can parent Michael without any nastiness.” And ignore any attraction between us. Why can’t I stop thinking about her? But then, did I ever stop? “It’s important that he not be influenced by ill feelings.”
Both his parents hastened to agree. His father then asked, likely because he recalled the events clearly, still working at the company in the Greek office then, “Perhaps you haven't discussed it, but has Jessie explained herself?”
“She still maintains she had nothing to do with it.” He wished to recall his words the instant he uttered them. They called up all those less noble emotions he wanted to suppress for his son’s sake.
“After all this time.”
He didn’t know why she continued to deny his accusations, not that he’d shown her the evidence. Hadn’t given her the opportunity to defend herself and let that evidence prove her guilt so those continuing conversations wouldn’t be necessary. “I should have shown her what Hodges showed me,” he allowed. “Though, what difference would it have made?”
“None, my son,” his father soothed. “My thoughts cast back is all. And for some reason, I thought she’d admitted it to you, hence the estrangement.”
“It’s still no reason for her to withhold our grandson!” his mother said.
“No reason,” he agreed, his brain ticking over as he grudgingly recognized he’d treated Jessie differently than any other employee. Treated her that way because he’d been gutted—again.
“I’ve picked Arthur to head up the San Franciso office, Papa. He’s en route, actually.” The timing was uncanny. “Would you go to the head office and pull those files? The ones related to … that time? There’s a paper copy and a digital. Get my assistant to send them to me.” He didn’t want just anyone looking for that information, not when it would soon be known he had a son and who the mother was.
“I can, Adrian. But to what end? If you and Jessie are managing your differences, why upset that?”
He didn’t know. Perhaps it was the timing, all the parties coming together in one place again. More likely, it was the fact he hadn’t presented her with the documents Arthur Hodges had prepared, and it would settle the issue once and for all.
“I’m having a custody agreement prepared.”
“Ah.” His father was still a businessman and knew what it was to hedge one’s bets. “I’ll see to it first thing in the morning.”
With a few more words to his mother, he closed the connection and checked his watch. With all the legalese he knew the lawyers would insist on inserting into what could be a relatively simple document, he wasn’t optimistic they’d have it prepared before he needed to get over to Jessie’s. But there was always the chance.
To while away a little more time, he went out to alert his assistant about the confidential item arriving in the morning and tried to pay attention to a few issues she raised. Nothing that couldn’t be dealt with, without his input, and he quickly delegated.
He headed down to the lawyers’ office, and a harassed-looking secretary greeted him. “Here it is, sir. The first draft.”
“Thank you. I’ll review it and let Patterson know.”
Calling for his car, he took the elevator to the lobby. After a short wait, the driver pulled up, and Adrian climbed into the back seat, opening the envelope immediately.
The drive to Jessie’s gave him the opportunity to scan the agreement, and he lingered on the passage that denoted his right to shared custody with the assertion to remove Michael into his care should he perceive probable cause. His forehead furrowed as he realized he was still waiting for the other shoe to fall. Jessie had to have another agenda, her apparent willingness to include him in their child’s life too good to be true, now he’d had a few hours away from her.
His gut clenched upon reading the clause and after skimming the remainder, which included the request to give Michael his name, he stuffed the pages back into the envelope. He debated if he should allow Jessie privacy to read the document or sit with her to diffuse her certain ire. But he wasn’t negotiating, pleased that the conversation with his father had spurred him to attain the proof against her he might require.
She greeted him at the door, a picture of maternal love, though not a traditional one. Her hair caught up in some kind of a clip, with wisps of it escaping to frame her face, her big brown eyes smudged with fatigue, she rocked the casual clothing that alternately concealed and revealed her more voluptuous breasts and hips. It was her hold on Michael, who leaned into her with a trace of shyness upon seeing Adrian, that confirmed the picture.
The envelope crinkled in his hand, and he found himself reluctant to hand it over. He said, “Am I early?”
“Not at all. We’ve eaten, and he’s bathed.” She passed a finger over the corner of Michael’s mouth where a trace of food lingered. “He had his dessert afterward.”
“Hey, Michael.” He hoped no one called his son Mike. Or Mikey. And wished he’d been there for the bath.
Michael rewarded him with a smile, and Jessie said, “I told him you were at work but would be home before bedtime.”
On impulse, he held out his arms, and his son pressed into them. The position brought Jessie close as well, and he fought the awareness. She ducked back as soon as their son was safely transferred, and Adrian marked the move.
Awkwardly, he passed over the envelope. “The first draft.”
“Oh.” She took it with a tentative manner, her fingers slowly closing over it. “I’ll look at it tonight.”
He settled with Michael on the area rug in the living room, asking for a sheet of paper and a pencil from Jessie and proceeded to draw some of the characters from his childhood reads. His bright child soon asked for pictures of those in the books he read, with Jessie providing background and descriptions.
After a period of time, which had Adrian concluding the toddler had an unprecedented attention span, Michael scrambled to his feet and asked for juice. The time had passed comfortably, and he reflec
ted that if he and Jessie simply didn’t talk about anything other than their child, there’d be no dissension.
A certain body part slyly suggested that they could spend time in other ways where words weren’t necessary, and he reminded himself why he was there. The lust made him hollow.
“Would you like to read him a story?” Jessie offered Michael a sip of juice.
“I’d be delighted.” He offered his hand, and his son promptly grasped it.
They headed toward the bedroom, and Adrian slowed to get a glimpse into Jessie’s domain. As with their room in Greece, it was decorated in soft, muted colors. Earthtones and blues and green, not feminine pastels. He’d stripped it all out and planned to send the bedding and such to her, but she’d left without leaving a forwarding address—another example of her guilt. Although I had stipulated no contact…
He’d missed the calming comfort of that décor, and the one now before his gaze spoke to him. They’d left the pressures of the world behind and created their own world in that past bedroom.
“Daddy.” Michael tugged his finger, and Adrian realized he’d slowed his pace.
“Coming.”
Climbing into the car bed, the child snuggled beneath the covers, clearly anticipating a story. Had he been as interested in books at such a young age?
“He prefers the one about the train. Or the tractor. And requires sound effects. He’s an action type of boy at present.” Jessie leaned in the doorway, the linear lines of the frame showcasing her rounded figure and long limbs.
She slipped into the room and curled up on a low chair, drawing her legs up beneath her. Self-consciously at first, he read the train book to Michael, soon losing himself in the efforts of the character and easily making the sounds he imagined a baby engine would make.
To his surprise, his son nodded off before he finished, and with regret, he laid the book aside.
In a low voice, Jessie said, “He’s a bit tired from fighting that cold, and I imagine he’s a bit stressed from meeting you.”
No doubt. He was stressed too. “I hope in a good way.”
Lesson Learned Page 4