Barefoot by the Sea bb-4

by Roxanne St Claire

  One more vibration had him darting through the kitchen to the dry-goods pantry. The door didn’t lock from the inside, but he put his whole body against it, and that was as good as any lock. With remarkably steady hands, he tapped the phone and Henry answered on the first ring.

  “What took so long?” the gruff Brit asked.

  “Work. What’s up?”

  Henry didn’t answer right away, but blew out a maddeningly noisy breath. “There were some arrests in Brixton last night.”

  An imaginary band squeezed Ian’s chest, stealing his breath or ability to reply. Brixton, the gang-ridden south London neighborhood where the last of the N1L members purportedly lived and worked. A group of murderers, thieves, drug dealers, addicts, and the scummiest of the world’s scum who proudly called themselves “No One Lives” and made sure that was true for anyone who got too close to the operation.

  No one lived. Including innocent young mothers who were simply doing a favor to help a scared little brother.

  “How many arrests?” Because if they weren’t all behind bars, Ian’s life remained on hold.

  “All but two, but they’re on the radar.”

  “Okay.” He heard a new order for crabcakes get called in from a frantic server and could have sworn he heard Tessa respond. God love that girl. “Okay, that’s good, Henry. But why the barrage of texts to call you?” Henry never made a big deal out of good news, only trouble.

  That ice up his back chilled to a fine, freezing sheen at the thought.

  “I contacted Canada.”

  Oh, here we go. “Canada” was Henry’s shorthand for the Canadian arm of the UK Protected Persons Service, who had placed and monitored two innocent babies three years ago. Ian had been allowed no contact, not even a picture, for thirty-eight months. And six days.

  He didn’t speak, waiting for the verdict.

  Behind him, a sharp knock. “John?”

  “I told you the kids started pre-kindergarten.”

  “You said nursery school,” he corrected. “Like day care, I assumed.”

  “It’s a little more formal than that.”

  “So?”

  “So, they feel if the children are in the program too long, then removing them will cause anxiety issues, separation issues, you know, the kinds of things social services people hate.”

  No, he didn’t know. And he didn’t know what the hell it had to do with him getting his kids back. “So what’s the problem?”

  “It’s a timing thing, Ian. If the kids are in the program more than three weeks, that passes some arbitrary twenty-one-day limit and—”

  “What the hell are you saying?”

  On the other side of the door, Tessa’s voice rose, but the blood in Ian’s head drowned out her voice as he worked to make sense of Henry’s words.

  “I’m saying that assuming all goes well in Brixton, and I believe we are that close, that you’ll need to be in Canada in less than three weeks.”

  Less than three weeks! He dropped his head back and closed his eyes. Shiloh and Sam would be in his arms in less than three weeks.

  “So you can see the problem.”

  No, he didn’t see any problem at all.

  “I don’t suppose you’re going to get all the proper paperwork in less than three weeks and—”

  “Of course I am.”

  “You’ll have a marriage certificate?”

  “John, please.” Tessa’s voice rose. “Can you answer a quick question?”

  Tessa. Sweet, unsuspecting, salt-of-the-earth Tessa.

  “Do I absolutely have to marry someone?”

  “Yes. This new board is quite inflexible where Emma and Eddie are concerned.”

  Emma and Eddie? “Who the fuck are they?”

  “Your kids.”

  “Their names are Shiloh and Samuel.”

  Henry hesitated. “Not anymore.”

  Ian’s heart scudded around and fell down to his belly. Someone else was raising his children. Someone else was loving them, naming them, keeping them. Way deep inside him, something angry and achy and uncontrollable erupted, bubbling up like hot lava. The power of the emotion choked him with the burning need to change everything, do anything, punch someone, to fight and claw and lie and kill his way back to the only thing that he had left in the world.

  His children.

  The door handle rattled. “John, if you need help—”

  “You got three weeks, Ian, not months. Make it happen.”

  Stabbing the phone with one hand, he yanked open the door with the other. Tessa almost fell in, letting out a small shriek as she tried to gain her balance. Before she took a breath, he pulled her into the room, spun her to the side, and used her whole body to close the door again.

  Her eyes went wide as he lifted her up a few inches and brought her face-to-face with him.

  “I do need help.” The words were little more than a groan, part of that pain and determination that took over his whole being. He needed her to say yes, to help him, to get back Shiloh and Sam.

  “What can—”

  “I need you,” he growled again, pressing into her, gripping her with all the utter frustration that rocked him. “You…have to…”

  He crushed her mouth with a kiss, their teeth cracking with the impact, his mouth open wide to delve into hers. He felt her fingers tighten on his shoulders, her mouth slacken with response, and her whole body respond to him.

  How did he ask her to marry him? Instead he pressed harder. “More,” he murmured into her mouth. “I want more. I want it all. I want you.”

  She answered with another kiss, clinging to him and intensifying everything by battling his tongue with hers. “I want you, too,” she admitted on a soft choke.

  He dragged his mouth down her jaw, to her neck, kissing and sucking with all the fury that rocked through his body. Sex and fear and a crazy sensation of being alive again made him suck her skin so hard it made noise.

  “John,” she laughed, tilting her head, squirming away. “You’re leaving a mark.”

  He lifted his head, burning her with a look as he held her so close he could hear the echo of his own heart in her chest. “We have to move fast,” he murmured.

  Her brows drew closer, her eyes confused. “To do what?”

  “Everything.” He kissed her, not trusting himself to keep all this emotion and need and urgency inside.

  “Oh.” She melted a little, sighing, resigning, letting him know she was his. “Then I guess you won’t mind that I burned the crabcakes.”

  He smiled into another kiss, wishing like hell he didn’t like her so damn much. “I don’t mind as long as you give me…everything.”

  She kissed her answer and left no doubt she would.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Somehow, Tessa made it from the kitchen into the spa. Instantly soothed by the waterfall, the new age music, and the soft lighting, she collapsed on the overstuffed lounge in the waiting room.

  What just happened?

  In less than five seconds, Jocelyn stepped out from the back, obviously expecting a spa client, and then frowning in concern at Tessa. “You okay?”

  “Define okay.”

  “Breathing regularly, seeing straight, and generally aware of what day it is.”

  She shook her head. “Then I’m not okay. My head is spinning, my heart is hammering, and is it day?”

  Jocelyn snapped her fingers into the doorway behind her. “Zoe, get out here. Tessa’s in love.”

  Tessa managed to close her eyes and open her mouth, but nothing that sounded anything like a denial came out. “Zoe, come here,” Joss repeated.

  “Chill for a sec. I’m calling Lacey,” she called out. “Bring Tessa into the massage room.”

  Jocelyn gave a wary look as she rounded the reception desk and reached out her hand. “Come on.”

  “Intervention?”

  “Emergency Fearsome Foursome meeting. In the back, Jack.”

  Tessa did as she was told, knowing
she’d come over here for exactly this kind of support. She let Joss lead her down the hall to the vestibule outside of the massage room, where Zoe joined them, inspecting Tessa’s face like it held clues to the deep secret of life. Then Zoe pointed and gasped, obviously finding that secret.

  “Holy Hickey, Batman!” Zoe cried. “He really did tattoo you.”

  Tessa slammed her hand over the still-warm spot on her neck, a heated memory of John’s demanding, relentless mouth rushing over her. “Now I have to wear turtlenecks for a week.”

  “Are you kidding?” Zoe gave Tessa a playful tap on the shoulder, nudging her into the massage room. “That sucker—and I do mean sucker—is a red badge of courage. Got it on the job, too.”

  “Got what on the job?” Lacey burst in, a little out of breath.

  “That.” Jocelyn pointed to Tessa’s neck.

  Lacey shot a brow up. “I heard there was some kind of dustup in the kitchen.”

  Zoe snorted. “Apparently Tessa has given new meaning to the term ‘lunch rush.’”

  “Do you mind?” Tessa glared at her.

  Zoe had the good grace to back off, but Lacey stepped forward, closing the circle around Tessa. “What’s going on?”

  Tessa held Lacey’s gaze for a long moment, trying to gather her thoughts into something cohesive. “John.”

  It was the best she could do, and Zoe cracked up. “She’s gonzo, girls.”

  “What about him?” Lacey asked softly.

  “I’m…” Tessa exhaled again.

  “Scared?” Lacey offered.

  “Nervous?” Joss added.

  “Like melted butter from the waist down?” Zoe finished.

  “All of the above.” Tessa laughed, shaking her head and covering her face with her hands. “I can’t believe this is happening. So fast, so right, so…so…so…”

  “Real?” Jocelyn asked.

  “Is it?” Tessa countered. “Because it’s too fast. I still can’t help feeling that he’s not telling me everything. And let’s not forget the idea of a baby sent him screaming into the night.”

  “But holding Elijah turned him into something that resembled this morning’s jar of baby food,” Lacey interjected.

  “So why does he do a caveman drag into the pantry and kiss the living hell out of me?”

  Zoe puffed out a frustrated breath. “Why do you have to question good fortune?”

  “I just gave you a list of compelling reasons.”

  “And we’re ignoring them,” Lacey said as they closed in around her, grabbing at her hands and squeezing her into a hug.

  “It’s so wonderful to see you this happy,” Jocelyn said.

  Tessa inched back for some air, touching her face as if she could feel how happy she looked. “Is this happy? Because I don’t feel happy. Well, I do, but I…” She laughed again, then let out a little scream. “He’s freaking perfect and that’s what’s wrong.”

  They all looked at each other like she’d lost her mind.

  “Seriously,” she insisted. “Don’t you guys think this is kind of fast and a little confusing? He even said ‘We have to move fast’ but didn’t give me any reason why.”

  “So ask him.”

  “I did.”

  “What did he say?”

  She tapped the love bite on her neck. “He’s a man of few words.” She shook her head, replaying the short, intense conversation. “Too few.”

  They shared a look, smug enough to piss her off.

  “Look, just because you three got lucky and met great guys doesn’t mean I automatically have the same thing happen the first time an eligible man cruises by. There are issues. And there’s a right way and a wrong way to go about handling them. Things take time, we have to get to know each other, meet families, spend months and even years learning about each other. And I don’t have that kind of time.”

  One more group look made her close her eyes. “Go ahead, pass judgment on me because I don’t believe things just happen, they have to grow. You plow, you plant, you water, you wait. Then you harvest. You don’t…dig a hole and get a tomato.”

  Zoe leaned back. “Who is talking about tomatoes, Tessa?”

  “It can happen fast,” Lacey said. “I met Clay and wham, it wasn’t three weeks and I was completely in love. Next thing I knew I was”—she laughed and gestured around—“in this room, having his baby.”

  The last word fell on the floor with a thud, and everyone got quiet.

  Tessa couldn’t resist a dry snort. “And there, my friend, is the heart of the problem.”

  After a long beat, Lacey said, “I still think you need to soft-pedal that a little and he’ll come around.”

  Irritation blasted through her. “Soft-pedal, Lace? Did you soft-pedal your desire to build a resort when you met Clay?” She turned to Jocelyn. “And did you soft-pedal the fact that Will was taking care of the man who broke you two up in the first place?” And Zoe—

  “No,” Zoe said, holding up her hand. “I didn’t soft-pedal with Aunt Pasha’s cancer, either.”

  At their moment of silent consent, Tessa allowed herself her own smug look. “Then I’m not going to soft-pedal the one thing I want most in the whole world. A baby. Either he’s all in or he’s out to get laid. I don’t care which it is, but I need to know. The next time I see him, I’m going to demand he tell me exactly what he wants, when he wants it, and how he expects to get it.”

  “And what if that doesn’t include a baby?” Lacey asked. “Is he automatically out of the running?”

  “I guess so, because I am still planning to have one with a surrogate and a—”

  Tessa’s phone chirped. They all looked expectantly at her.

  “That’s probably him,” Zoe said. “He’s in the walk-in cooler waiting for more.”

  Tessa gave her a stink eye. “He better not be. Cold lowers sperm count.”

  They all laughed as she slipped the phone out of her pocket and checked the ID.

  Maryann Bartlett, North Naples Reproductive Center.

  “Speaking of sperm count, it’s the clinic.” Her insides tightened a little. “I bet they had the site visit with the surrogate. That means I can meet her next. I have to take this, guys.” She turned, walking to the door as she answered the phone. “Hey, Maryann.”

  “Tessa, I’m so glad I got you.”

  Outside, Tessa closed the door and sat on a cushioned seat in the vestibule. “What’s up?”

  “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

  She closed her eyes and tensed. “A problem with the site visit?”

  “She’s found another couple, Tessa, and they’ve visited, met her, and she’s passed every test with flying colors.”

  Disappointment rose like bile. “Another couple?” she asked in a strangled voice. “How can that happen? I put a deposit on her.”

  Of course she wasn’t a house you can hold off the market.

  “It happened because this couple is ready to pull the trigger tomorrow.” Maryann’s tone was gentle, but that did little to quell the hot cocktail of regret and frustration. “Tessa, you’ve delayed this several times. I understand you haven’t found the right donor, but other couples are as anxious as you are. And we have plenty more candidates.”

  “What if I found a donor? Today?” Her voice rose with desperation.

  “It’s too late, Tessa. But I have several files for you to review. All very high quality, and I’m certain…”

  The rest of her words faded away as hope crumbled into a million pieces, a feeling so familiar Tessa was almost comforted by it. The cracking of her heart, the sinking of her joy, the final pool of bitter disillusionment. She’d felt the same thing every time her body confirmed it wasn’t pregnant, month after month, year after year after year.

  “Do you want to set up an appointment, Tessa? I have candidates’ files ready for you to look at.”

  She shook her head, the tight fist in her throat making it impossible to speak. “No, thanks,” she rasped.
>
  “Still no luck with a donor?” she asked.

  “I need a little more time.” Even though the man she had in mind wanted to rush “everything,” he didn’t seem to want to rush that. “I’m working on it.”

  “Well, Tessa, you know we have a great selection of anonymous donors and I promise you I stand behind the quality of that sperm.”

  The quality of that sperm. Could it sound any less romantic? Any more brutally clinical? Any riskier?

  “Good to know, Maryann. Thanks.”

  She hung up and stood to go back into the room, knowing she’d get all the comfort she needed when she told her friends, which she would do right now. But nothing was going to fill the void.

  As she reached for the handle, her phone chirped with a text and she almost didn’t look at it because, right that minute, nothing mattered.

  But she looked anyway.

  John Brown: See you at the meeting this afternoon. I can’t wait.

  She couldn’t wait either. Problem was, they were both impatient for different things.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Tessa cleaned up after a few hours in the greenhouse and headed to the all-staff meeting in the restaurant, still nursing the disappointment of Maryann’s news. Even an hour of composting hadn’t made her feel better, but knowing she’d see John did lift her spirits.

  Once again she toyed with his “excuse” for running off and disappearing behind the pantry door. He’d said he had an emergency call from one of the restaurant suppliers but had never really explained the nature of the crisis.

  Wasn’t that just like him? A little too evasive to trust. The minute she started to get comfortable with him, a little buzzer went off in her head that said—what was his advice in the bar about trusting him?

  Don’t.

  So what changed?

  She breezed through the business offices, stopping at Lacey’s closed door. Shouldn’t she be in the restaurant setting up for the all-hands meeting? Tapping lightly, she poked her head in to see Lacey with the phone tucked between ear and shoulder, furiously scribbling notes. She barely looked up, waving Tessa off with her pen.

  As Tessa backed up, closing the door, she stepped right into Ashley, who was barreling toward the office.