She smiled. “Because you always bring me something. You spoil me rotten, Aidan.”
“Hmm. Maybe I should stop then.” It was an idle threat, they both knew it.
“Yeah, you probably should.” Aidan waited, counting off the seconds in his head until she added, “But not tonight.” He grinned again, reaching for the bag.
The exquisite aroma hit her the moment he began opening the air-tight seal of the container. “Fresh baked cinnamon rolls?” she asked, her eyes glowing. “From Antoine’s?”
Aidan nodded as she held the rolls to her face and inhaled, her face rapturous. He’d known women who hadn’t been as pleased with multi-carat diamonds as Lexi was with the simplest things.
“Go on. There’s more in there.” Lexi squealed excitedly as she picked out the remaining items. He’d learned long ago that expensive trinkets meant little to her. But a hand-picked flower, an Abbott and Costello DVD with a bag of buttery popcorn, fresh baked rolls from Antoine’s – they made her eyes light up like a Vegas nightscape. He would do anything to see his best friend smile again.
“Aidan, you are truly a prince among men.” As always, a familiar warmth spread through him at her praise. The kiss to his cheek didn’t hurt, either.
Lexi wasted no time in taking a big bite of a decadently gooey cinnamon roll. “Are you sure I should be eating this?” she asked, even as she chewed.
“Absolutely. Why, the endorphins released by just one of Antoine’s rolls have been clinically proven to reverse the aging process.”
Lexi raised a skeptical eyebrow. “It’s true,” he insisted, taking one for himself. “Look it up if you don’t believe me. Cures scurvy, too.”
Lexi laughed, holding her hand over her mouth lest any part of the delicious roll be sacrificed. “I guess that explains why I don’t have scurvy or wrinkles.”
“Now you know.”
Two hours later, as the final images from The Time of Their Lives faded, Lexi yawned and began gathering the remnants of their little pig fest, reaching across Aidan to grab the bag to put it all in.
“Hey, what’s that?” She pointed to the plainly-wrapped brown package that sat upon the bedside table.
“It was delivered to the restaurant.” Aidan handed it over to her; it was about two inches thick and approximately the same dimensions as a stack of standard 8.5 x 11 inch paper. Lexi’s name was scrawled across the front in flowing calligraphy, the name of Aidan’s restaurant appearing in the c/o below.
Lexi turned it over curiously in her hands, her grumbling temporarily forgotten. Aidan had already inspected it. He knew that there was no return address, no post mark to identify from where it had come. Lexi shook it tentatively. “It feels like a book or something.”
“Whatever it is, someone wants to make sure you get it. One of these was hand delivered to each of the restaurants.”
“Hand-delivered?”
“Apparently.” He didn’t tell her that the hostesses at all three restaurants described the delivery man as exceptionally tall, dark, and handsome with striking blue eyes. “Open it.”
With a grin that reminded him of a child on Christmas morning, Lexi tore at the paper. “Oh.... Oh, my...”
Aidan shifted to see what she had revealed. It was a bound manuscript, with an artist’s rendering on the front, depicting a stunning woman looking remarkably like Lexi. Multi-colored layers of hair curling seductively around her gleaming white gown, realistic amber eyes. In the background, hidden in the shadows, a pair of familiar blue eyes watched over the image. By Salienne Dulcette was hand-scripted down in the lower right hand corner.
“Th-There’s a note,” Lexi said, her voice shaking nearly as much as her hands as she pulled the stationary from the clip and read it aloud:
Dear Lexi,
Enclosed is my latest manuscript, tentatively titled “Celtic Goddess”. Sorry, I know I stole the name from your restaurant, but you were my inspiration (please ask Aidan not to call the lawyers just yet for copyright infringement ). I want you to be the first to read it and tell me what you think. Kieran drafted the cover art – didn’t he do a fabulous job?
I’m also enclosing a picture of our little guy. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye before you left. I really hope we’ll meet again someday. Ian needs you, Lexi.
Hope you enjoy the book.
Love,
Stacey Connelly
A small photo was paper-clipped to the back of the note. “Holy shit,” Lexi breathed in amazement.”
Aidan leaned over to get a better look. The picture included a pretty, dark-haired woman with silvery eyes next to a large blonde man holding a tiny, swathed newborn. Both looked exhausted but extremely happy. “Do you know them?”
“Yeah... Johnny is the guy who came out to my grandmother’s house about possible renovation, and Stacey is his wife. Holy shit, Aidan. Stacey Connelly is Salienne Dulcette.”
“Who?”
“She’s a famous author. I have all of her books. I can’t believe I met Salienne Dulcette.”
“You know, she probably says the same thing about you. You’re kind of famous yourself.”
Lexi ran her fingers over the cover. “It’s not the same. Wow, Aidan. Look at this. I knew Kieran was talented, but this is amazing.”
“It is uncanny,” Aidan murmured, looking at the cover as well. “He’s captured you perfectly. Are you going to read it?”
Lexi bit her lip and shifted a little. She seemed to be holding her breath, then let it all out at once. “Um, no, not right now.”
“Why not?”
“Because my water just broke.”
“Son of a bitch.” Aidan was on his feet in a flash, hitting the speed dial on his iPhone. A few harried comments later and he was sprinting across the room for the bag she’d had packed and ready to go months ago.
“Aidan,” Lexi said less than an hour later, her voice groggy from the I.V. Dressed in scrubs, he held her hand while they prepped her for the operating room. “If anything happens –“
“Nothing is going to happen, Lex. We’ve got everything covered. Piece of cake.” Aidan smiled in reassurance and tried to stay calm, but inside he was scared to death. They’d practiced this drill over and over, but nothing could have prepared him for the reality.
“But if it does -” she insisted with gritted teeth, bracing against the pain that even with meds, was enough to crush the bones in his hand, “- promise me.”
Aidan avoided her eyes. He knew exactly what she wanted, and God help him, he couldn’t do it. Lexi had a special contract drawn up the day she found out she was pregnant. One of the stipulations was that all measures be taken to save the baby, even if it meant sacrificing her own life. Another was that should she end up on life support, it was to be discontinued after thirty days if there was no sign of improvement. In the case of either event, Aidan would be free to contact Ian as he deemed necessary and appropriate.
But outside of those circumstances, he was not to say a word to anyone. It was a source of major contention between them. Aidan thought Ian should know he was going to be a father. Lexi agreed to tell him, but only after the baby was born. Aidan understood that she had her reasons, but that didn’t mean he agreed with them.
“It’s time,” the doc said as they stopped in front of the OR. The room was packed with specialists; they were prepared for any emergency. “Mr. Harrison, if you would, please.” One of the masked men gestured to Aidan. Over the past few months they’d been stockpiling his blood. He would be prepped to give more should it become necessary.
“Promise me, Aidan,” she said.
“I promise.”
She smiled drowsily. “Thank you, Aidan. Piece of cake.”
“Piece of cake. I’ll be waiting for you, Lex.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jake’s Irish Pub was usually crowded on a Friday night. But when St. Patrick’s Day fell on a Friday, the place was over-the-top insane. Every member of the Callaghan clan te
nded, taking care of their loyal customers and all of the honorary Irish who came out to have a good time. It took a while, therefore, for Ian to notice the familiar face of Aidan Harrison in the crowd.
The two men locked gazes. Ian searched the other man’s face for a clue to explain his presence, but his expression was unreadable. Aidan pulled a legal-sized manila envelope from the inside of his coat and slid it across the bar as he leaned in to speak. Despite the roar of the crowd, Ian heard his cryptic words as clearly as if the other man had spoken across an empty room.
“It’ll take about an hour for my private plane to refuel.”
Before Ian could respond, Aidan was gone, swallowed up by the crowd.
Ian picked up the envelope and took a step back from the bar. With his heart pounding in his chest, he reached in and extracted a photo of a beautiful baby boy – pink-faced and chubby, with a shock of jet black hair and piercing blue eyes. His eyes locked on the little boy’s, and he knew.
He had to lean against the back wall as his legs suddenly felt like rubber. Reaching in, he pulled the only other item from the packet: a record of birth for Patrick Brian Kattapoulos, born January 27th, weighing in at 7 pounds, 3 ounces, 21 inches long. The mother was listed as Alexis Kattapoulos. The father – Ian Patrick Callaghan.
Ian felt his eyes fill with tears; he had to lean over, bracing his hands on his knees as he fought for breath. He had a son.
“Ian, man, what’s up?” Jake asked a few seconds later as the crowd around Ian became eerily quiet, their curious attention focused on him. Ian could only shake his head, holding out the papers for Jake to see.
“Jesus Christ,” Jake said, scanning the contents. A moment later, Ian felt himself being grabbed by the arms on either side and hauled toward the back kitchen.
“Aidan’s got a plane waiting,” he managed to choke out after a minute or two.
“Then what the hell are we waiting for?” Jake barked. “Let’s GO! Shane – cover for me, man, I’m taking Ian to the airport.”
* * *
Lexi yawned and stretched, feeling pleasantly drowsy. Her breasts, heavy with milk, ached like crazy. Looking at the clock, she started to panic. It was nearly six a.m. and she’d put the baby down around midnight. He was nursing about every two hours – how had she slept through two feedings? Oh, God, what if something was wrong?
As quickly as she dared, she slid her feet over the side of the bed and began to pad quietly across the lush carpet toward the crib at the far side of her room, holding her breath. In the brief three seconds or so it took to get there, her post-partum hormones had managed to convince her that her baby was in mortal peril – or at the very least starving - and that she had to be The Worst Mother Ever.
Relief flooded her as she looked down and saw the crib was empty. Then fear gripped her again an instant later. Where was her baby? Oh, God, someone stole her baby in the middle of the night while she was in bed sound asleep, selfishly dreaming of how the baby was conceived....
Worst. Mother. Ever.
Lexi gripped the rails and forced herself to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. Aidan must have come back late last night. Yeah, that was it. He’d checked on them, like he always did, and fed the baby from the milk she’d pumped and stored in the fridge. He was probably in the living room right now, rocking the baby and watching infomercials. So help her, if he ordered one more gadget from QVC...
The thought of nursing made her overly-full breasts ache more as wet circles formed across the front of her nightgown. She hoped the baby was still hungry as she pulled a light robe over her gown and headed for the kitchen.
The smell of freshly brewed coffee, bacon, eggs, and toast met her the moment she opened the bedroom door. Immediately her fears melted away. Aidan was here. The man was nothing less than a saint. He was going to make some lucky woman very happy, she thought, her emotions now definitely on the up side of the roller coaster. Maybe he would finally ask out that private duty nurse that came by every afternoon. She was very pretty, soft-spoken and gentle. And Aidan definitely had eyes for her. She’d have to talk to him about taking her out very soon. Maybe tonight, since she’d gotten so much sleep...
Lexi froze as she neared the kitchen and heard the quiet humming in a deep, bass tone. She knew that voice, it called to the very depths of her soul. She knew that song, too - it was an ancient Irish lullaby, the one her grandmother used to sing to her.
Taking small, hesitant steps, Lexi made it to the archway. Her hand flew to her mouth as she blinked, once, twice, three times. She pinched herself lightly, sure that she must still be dreaming.
The broad, muscular back. The jet black hair, so shiny it looked blue, longer than she remembered, extending beneath those strong shoulders. The narrow waist, the gorgeous backside hugged by faded blue jeans, the heavy, corded legs.
Ian.
As if he sensed her presence, he turned around. There, safely ensconced in the crook of one elbow was her son, looking perfectly content, sampling his tiny fist. Two pairs of identical blue eyes looked at her with keen interest.
“Perfect timing,” Ian said softly, never taking his eyes from her, shifting the baby up toward his shoulder gently as if he had plenty of practice. Of course he has, she thought suddenly, a bitter taste in her mouth. This isn’t his first.
“How –“
“Later,” Ian said huskily, his eyes dipping to her chest. “My son is hungry.” Ian looked pretty hungry, too.
A million questions floated around in her head, but the sharpening ache in her breasts overrode them. She forced her numb legs toward the padded rocking chair and sat down, untying the top of her gown. Ian brought the boy to her, reverently placing him in her arms as he knelt before them. His face filled with awe as he saw his son snuggle into her, his tiny mouth searching until he latched on, his pudgy little fists on either side of her breast like he was holding on for dear life.
As the baby’s powerful tugging began to ease some of the ache, Lexi studied the man before her. God, how she’d missed him. He was even more breath-taking than the pictures in her mind, the ones she’d locked away and brought out to get her through the next minute, the next hour, the next day.
“Christ,” he whispered, stroking his son’s head lightly with trembling fingers. “That is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He swallowed hard and raised his eyes to meet hers. In them, she saw raw, powerful emotions swirling restlessly, held carefully in check, but her reckoning would come soon, she knew.
As soon as the boy’s eyes drifted shut and his little body relaxed, Ian took him from her, holding him to his chest and rubbing his back. Lexi frowned, feeling a bit cheated. She loved holding her baby up against her, caressing his soft skin, inhaling his perfect little baby smell. One look at Ian, though, and she felt ashamed. No matter what had transpired between them, Patrick was his son, too.
“Now it’s your turn,” Ian said, walking toward the kitchen. The child remained asleep in his arms; he made no move to put him down. Lexi knew just how he felt.
She heard the microwave door open and less than a minute later, Ian brought her a covered plate. He went back for silverware. Again for coffee. Once more for juice, doing everything one-handed, never once relinquishing his hold on his son.
It was hypnotic, watching him move. He had a silent, masculine grace that radiated strength and control like some lethal predator, yet he held their son with infinite care. Like someone who had been in the dark for ages and was then suddenly permitted to gaze upon a spectacular sunrise, she could not turn away.
There was no denying that Patrick was Ian’s son. The boy was barely two months old but it would be clear to anyone not legally blind that the resemblance went far beyond the black hair and blue eyes. Already her son had the same stubborn set to his jaw, the fierce temper, and the ability to melt her heart with only a look. Seeing them together stirred something inside of her, something at once beautiful and sad. Yes, Patrick was Ian’s son, but he was hers, too, and there
was no way in hell she would ever let him go. The only way that child would be taken from her was over her cold, dead body.
Ian stopped moving and stared back at her. As if sensing her thoughts, his big hand came up protectively against the back of Patrick’s head.
“Ian, I - ”
He flashed those blue eyes at her, a look that breached no argument. “Eat,” he commanded, his voice quiet but with unquestionable authority. “Then we’ll talk.”
Her eyes flashed right back at him, but the loud growling from her stomach lessened the impact. Her traitorous body was betraying her left and right this morning, wasn’t it?
The meal was hot and delicious, but despite her hunger, she had trouble swallowing. Ian was here, in her apartment. He waited patiently, holding Patrick, watching her with an intensity that did absolutely nothing for her appetite. Only when she laid down her fork and refused to take another bite did he stir.
Without a word, he removed the dishes one by one. Then, with a kiss to the baby’s forehead that melted her heart, he laid their son down in the little bassinet and began to pace, running his hand through his hair. Here it comes, Lexi thought, bracing herself.
But instead of saying anything, Ian suddenly appeared before her, pulling her to her feet. The next thing she knew she was wrapped tightly in his arms, his body crushing gloriously against her, his mouth devouring hers.
The raw emotion in his kiss was staggering. In it, Lexi felt paralyzing fear, relief, elation, hunger, anger, and desperation. She was swept away in a fast, swirling current, clinging to him as if her life depended on it.
Eons later, he finally broke away, gasping for breath. The cage of his arms didn’t weaken in the slightest, though, as he rested his forehead against hers. “I thought I lost you,” he said, his voice tortured. “Never, ever do that to me again. I swear to God, Lexi, I won’t survive it.”
* * *
Her heart beating against his chest encouraged his own, and he focused on that until he felt strong enough to release her. Unwilling to relinquish all contact, though, he entwined his fingers with hers and guided them both to the couch.
First and Only: Callaghan Brothers, Book 2 Page 19