Marriage Make-Up & an Heir to Bind Them

by Penny Jordan

  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 died 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?”

  An imposition? He was truly pathetic if that’s how she thought he regarded holding a happy baby.

  “It’s fine,” he said, disgusted with himself for giving off such an impression, but having a child was still a shock. And he was still so worried about damaging him he preferred to keep her close. If she wasn’t hovering, how would he know he was doing everything right?

  She must have read something in his tone. She glanced toward her laptop with indecision.

  “Go ahead,” he insisted, refusing to be frightened of a kid who couldn’t even stand up on his own. “From what I’ve overheard, this place is still transitioning from good to excellent. You’re doing a stellar job in pushing them gently, by the way. Obviously in your element. They’re lucky to have you.”

  She checked and looked back at him. “Do you mean that?”

  “Of course. I’m not surprised, either. Your knack with this kind of work was obvious to me the first time we met.”

  She cleared her throat. “Thank you. You’re not just anyone. You know what it takes, what the pressures are. Your saying that means a lot.” She gave a tiny sniff and wiped under one eye as she scooped up her laptop and moved into the bedroom.

  Women. He’d like to see a male manager get all soupy from a pat on the back.

  Of course, he was just as bad, still basking in her praise that he was giving his son some enjoyment. The boy had spring-loaded legs, seemingly incapable of tiring.

  His son.

  His chest walls gave an internal shudder as he faced a grinning countenance that seemed both foreign yet familiar. All the babies were crawling their way under his skin, but Zephyr was different. With the other two, it was easier to let himself develop some affection. There wasn’t the same depth of responsibility. He imagined he’d be a fallback for the rest of their lives, attached by bonds that nature cast like a spell for exactly this circumstance: to keep little ones alive if their primary caregiver was absent, but he wouldn’t have to worry about Evie and Androu 24/7 the way he’d worry about Zephyr.

  He took a moment to examine that nagging, anxious sensation. For all his concern that he’d crush this boy’s confidence, the what-ifs about his future were worse. What if he was wet and this neighbor lady didn’t notice? What if Quentin talked Jaya into taking the boy to some third-world country with exotic parasites and deadly spiders? What if something happened to Jaya?

  The way Zephyr chewed a finger and thumb while staring deeply into his eyes—much the same disconcerting way his mother had, as if he trusted him implicitly—was a heart punch. It was as if the little guy was already relying on Theo to make sure all the what-ifs were mitigated. Who else would do it? Theo had a lot of faults, but shirking responsibility was not one of them.

  His guts wobbled, like he’d taken a misstep on a high wire.

  No, he didn’t shirk responsibility. If Jaya had said that to him last night, rather than trying to prod him into admitting an emotional connection to the boy, she might have had him.

  But who would look after Zephyr if something happened to Jaya? He’d seen what babies were like when Mama wasn’t near. They were distressed. He wouldn’t want Zephyr to go through that. Hell, he didn’t want t
o go through missing Jaya again and he was a full-grown man.

  Swearing under his breath, he tried to take back that thought, but it was acknowledged now. Was that why he was stressing out about Zephyr’s future, he asked himself? Because the tyke was his best excuse to hang on to the mother?

  No. He did not just see Zephyr as a means to an end. When he contemplated walking away from Jaya or Zephyr, everything in him went bleak and gray. His sense of responsibility toward the boy was quickly shifting beyond the desire to provide food and shelter. Quentin might be the better father figure, but Theo couldn’t shake Jaya’s comment that maybe he’d never developed any deep relationships because he didn’t cultivate them.

  It wasn’t fair to Zephyr to not even try, was it?

  Zephyr stopped bouncing and gave an exhausted sigh, like he’d finished chopping a cord of wood. Theo found himself grinning in amusement.

  “Finally worn out?” He settled the boy against his chest where Zephyr let his head droop, fingers still in his mouth and eyelids heavy.

  He wasn’t a man who cuddled, preferring his own space unless he was busy with a woman between the sheets, but there was an addictive quality to a baby’s snuggled warmth against his shoulder. It was a sense of all-powerfulness. Success at creating a moment of contentment for another human being. After a childhood of being found wanting, he wallowed in Zephyr’s unconditional appreciation of having his simplest needs met.

  It’s just Mother Nature’s plan, he tried to dismiss, but a very tiny voice—feminine and lilting with an Indian accent—whispered that maybe it was a father’s nature to be happy when his child was happy.

  Stunned, he swallowed a lump of emotion, hands cradling his son tenderly as the connection between them wound through him like a creeping vine, hooking into his vital organs in such a way there’d be damage to both of them if they were pulled apart.

  Jaya’s quiet voice grew louder, speaking to Evie as she appeared with the girl. Her eyes went soft when she saw him holding Zephyr so close, making Theo feel as though he was out on that high wire again, a brisk gale cutting up the canyon toward him.

  He lowered his gaze. This was too personal a moment to have even Jaya witness.

  “Trade?” he asked in a voice like sandpaper, reluctant to let the boy go, but he was so shaken by his flood of primal instinct to protect and nurture, he let her steal the sleepy baby and tried to distract himself by coaxing a smile from Evie with a promise of a swim later.

  It was soon back to chaos, Androu waking shortly after Evie and both of them hungry. He was washing mashed banana out of Androu’s hair, using the wet cloth to spike it into a Mohawk, wondering if he was getting the hang of this parenting thing after all, when a knock at the door interrupted them.

  Jaya was in her room, answering emails while Zephyr napped in there with her. He sidled to the peephole and saw Nic, Rowan and Adara distorted by the fisheye lens.

  Never one to appreciate unexpected visitors, he snapped open the door. “Why didn’t you call?”

  “Are they okay? Where are they?” The women rushed past him like fans into a rock concert, invading his space.

  Nic entered at a more laconic pace, scanning the suite in the way of someone who made his living by sharp observations.

  Theo suppressed a prickle of irritability. The place was littered in toys and dirty dishes. Much as he didn’t really care about being judged over something like that, he also made it a habit to keep from providing opportunities to be judged.

  “They were anxious so I chartered a helicopter,” Nic said. “Gideon had to stay with the ship. Everyone is okay, but what a mess. I don’t envy him. There’s my girl.” He broke into a wide smile as he caught Evie reaching from Rowan’s arms into his.

  “It’s not that we didn’t trust you, Theo. We just missed them so much,” Rowan said, her light touch on his arm apologetic.

  He gave a jerky shrug, subtly removing himself from her uninvited touch even though he didn’t hate it. She was nice enough and being sincere. It was just he wasn’t at his best, accosted by a lot right now with their unexpected visit and a distant, illogical disappointment he didn’t want to examine. He didn’t need her standing too close, sensing his tension, reading his vibe for him.

  “It’s fine, I understand,” he said, and strangely, kind of did. His chest filled with pressure at the way his sister was smothering the life out of Androu. Her eyes were closed, her lashes wet. He had a new understanding of how precious their babies were to them and was suffused with a weird self-conscious pride that he’d been able to keep their offspring safe for them, whether they had really trusted him to do so or not.

  “I knew he’d be fine. He knows you,” Adara said, voice thick. “But Gideon threw you into the deep end with both of them. I’m glad you called Jaya—she’s perfect—but what made you think of her? How did you know she was here? Where is she?”

  Before Theo could get past the suffocation provoked by questions about Jaya, she said, “I’m here.”

  They all turned toward her voice.

  “Sorry,” she said with a flash of anxious eyes at Theo. “The commotion woke him and he needs a drink.”

  Zephyr looked sweaty and flushed, hair damp and pushed up in tufts around the face he buried in Jaya’s neck to hide.

  Theo moved to fetch the boy’s cup, distancing himself from something he didn’t want to face, then kicked himself just as quickly. This was exactly the kind of abandonment he would hate himself for inflicting on his son. Or Jaya, for that matter.

  “I’m sorry we spoiled his nap,” he heard Rowan say and glanced across to see her peeking at the boy over his mother’s shoulder. “What’s your name?”

  “Baby Zepper,” Evie provided from her happy perch on Nic’s bent arm.

  “Zephyr,” Jaya corrected softly, smiling at Evie. “You’ve been my best little helper, haven’t you? She’s been very sweet with both of them.”

  “Zephyr,” Rowan repeated. “That’s lovely. Greek god of wind, right?”

  Theo absorbed the meaning, wondering if it was a deliberate reference to his love of piloting, thinking, I really don’t deserve her, as he crossed with Zephyr’s sipping cup.

  “Thanks,” Jaya said with a flickering gaze of apprehension as he approached. She rubbed Zephyr’s back to get his attention. “Want your cup, sweetie?”

  Zephyr lifted his head and spied the cup, but rather than wait for Jaya to take it, he leaned out for Theo.

  Theo was getting used to the boy’s impulsive launches. He caught him in what was becoming a practiced scoop and hitched him up against his chest. The air in his lungs stopped moving as he held the cup for the boy, aware of how telling his actions were, how much like a father he must appear. How close a copy of Androu Zephyr was.

  Zephyr’s little hands settled over his big one while profound silence fell over the room like a dome.

  Theo forced himself to lift his gaze and meet each pair of stunned eyes. They had to be reading guilt in him. It sprang from ignoring Jaya’s attempts to contact him and thinking he could ignore someone as important as his son. He was ashamed of himself, not Zephyr.

  Disgust with himself made him blurt, “He’s mine,” aware that it was the clumsiest possible way he could have announced it, but he couldn’t dance around it. Not when Nic was drilling him a look that said, You lucky bastard.

  His half brother blinked and the envy was gone, replaced by a doting smile at Evie, but it was the reinforcement Theo needed to keep inching across the hot coals cooking him from the soles of his feet to his collar. Maybe he wasn’t doing this well, but he’d figured out what was right and he’d do that much.

  In his periphery, he saw Jaya lift an uncertain hand then fold her arms defensively. Don’t, he wanted to say. Don’t be embarrassed for me. I don’t care how stupid I look, only that I not fail where it coun
ts.

  Over Zephyr’s loud gulps, Androu made a noise and put out his hand.

  “I told you before, sport,” Theo said, trying to sound normal while emotions log-jammed in his throat. “Yours is the green one. It’s on his tray,” he told Adara, nodding to the high chair where Androu had been sitting before she arrived.

  He hoped she’d move away and begin to defuse this charged moment, but she didn’t. Her gaze was fixed on Zephyr’s face.

  The boy looked at her with his unblinking brown eyes. Makricosta eyes.

  “Theo.” She spoke his name with myriad inflections. Shock, awe, surprise, approval. Exasperated disapproval.

  As he braced himself for whatever she would say, he felt a feminine hand rest on his biceps. Jaya. If he’d had a free hand, he would have wrapped it around her waist and pulled her in close. He might be willing to face the scrutiny of his family without apology, but it wasn’t easy. How such a slight woman could be his shield against them, he didn’t understand, but he had an intense need to wield her in just that way.

  “He didn’t know,” Jaya said. The tips of her fingers dug into his tense arm. “Not until I told him yesterday.”

  Had it only been a day?

  He drew in a breath, realizing he’d neglected to take in air for several seconds. Looking into Jaya’s eyes, he let her know she didn’t have to protect him that much. It was his own damned fault he hadn’t known about his son.

  It’s okay, she seemed to reassure with a softening of her touch on his arm. Our secret. And therein lay her appeal. He feared every stumble, too used to being knocked down a second time for daring to err. She was a forgiving person, though. She was so softhearted, she’d help him to his feet after a face-plant. He wanted to kiss her for it.

  Hell, he wanted to kiss her, period. He dragged himself free of their locked stare in time to hear Rowan ask Nic, “Will it be a full Indian wedding, do you think? I’ve always wanted to go to one.”