“You’re beautiful,” he told her over the baby’s head. Michael was turning pages with gusto, oblivious to the adults in the room.
“I—thank you,” she said in a strangled tone. Then, as the child slammed the book shut, she addressed her son. “Time to go night-night, Michael.” She stepped forward, holding out her arms. “Tell Mac good-night.”
With a vigorous shake of his blond head, the little boy twisted around again in Gray’s lap, scrambling up to clutch Gray around the neck in a stranglehold.
Reflexively, he put his arms up to hold the child, and his heart contracted at the feel of the small, chubby arms, the freshly bathed baby shampoo smell, the sound of the little guy’s breathing, ragged in his ear. He closed his eyes tightly, all sensual thoughts erased in the sweetness of the moment. Turning his head slightly, he pressed a kiss to the shining crown of the baby’s head. “You are really something, pal,” he murmured.
Standing carefully with the child still in his arms, he looked over Michael’s head at Catherine. “What now?”
“Now we put him down for the night.” She indicated the little crib in the corner. Her eyes were soft and as he approached she dropped a kiss on the baby’s head. “Night, sweetie.” To Gray, she said, “Lay him on his back and give him that blanket with the silky edge.”
He did as instructed, hanging over the crib to watch the kid snatch up the blanket and rub it against his cheek. As he did so, the little eyes began to close almost at once.
Gray glanced at Catherine, eyebrows raised.
Her face was alight with a tender smile, laughter in her eyes, and she put a finger to her lips as she beckoned him out of the room and closed the door quietly behind them. “He loves to brush the silky edge of the blanket over his cheek. It never fails to put him right to sleep.”
He was surprised at how easy it had been. “I thought you had to rock babies to sleep.”
She shrugged. “I did when he was tiny, but he’s just developed that habit and I encourage it. His doctor says it’s important for him to be able to fall asleep on his own.” She looked away from him in the darkened hallway. “Would you like a drink—oh, I forgot you don’t drink.”
“I don’t need a drink,” he said quietly, “but I’d enjoy spending a little more time with you.” Kissing you. Touching you. But he didn’t say that aloud. She’d already retreated behind those walls of reserve she usually kept so high, and he sensed that she didn’t want to talk about what had happened in the nursery.
She hesitated for so long he thought she was going to refuse. Finally, she said, “I’d like that, too,” in a faint voice, as if she wasn’t really sure. “Let me change my shirt and I’ll be right down.”
He couldn’t resist. “You don’t have to change on my account.”
“I’m not,” she said in a more sure tone. “I’m changing on my account. I can’t engage in conversation with a man whose eyes are glued to my chest.”
He lifted a hand and let the tips of his fingers caress the satiny skin of her cheek and jaw. “We don’t have to talk.”
Her gaze searched his in the darkness as she lifted a hand and covered his, not pulling it away, just holding on to his fingers there in the semidarkness of the landing. “I need to get to know you better,” she said quietly.
He nodded. “All right.” Then, before he could do something he would surely regret, he turned and headed down the stairs to wait for her. Before what? he wondered. There had been a promise implicit in that statement but he was afraid to consider what it might have been. He was in too deep, he knew, over his head in waters he’d never expected to enter. But that was before he’d seen Catherine, before he’d held her in his arms on a dance floor and she’d felt like she was a part of him that he’d been missing all his life.
She joined him moments later, attired in a sensible knit shirt that wasn’t too clingy and certainly wasn’t wet. “Thank you for helping with Michael,” she said as she entered the drawing room where he waited.
“Thank you for allowing me to help,” he said. “He’s an amazing little guy.”
She smiled with maternal pride. “I think so. It was good for him to have someone other than Aline, Patsy and me involved in his bedtime routine.”
“You’ve never had a baby-sitter?”
“Other than Aline or Patsy, no. And you’re the first man he’s ever spent any time around at all.”
The words satisfied him deeply, in some primitive way he couldn’t define. But all he said was, “He handled it pretty well.”
She nodded. The she walked to the bar and bent down to the small refrigerator beneath the counter. “Would you like fruit juice? Or a soda? I also have bottled water.”
“Water would be great, thanks.” He accepted the glass with ice and the bottle that she handed him and took a seat on the sofa.
Catherine curled up at the other end, arranging pillows behind her back and kicking off her shoes and tucking her bare feet beneath her. “So how’s the house coming along?”
He smiled, angling himself to face her. “Fine. I’ll be out of your hair soon.”
“That’s not why I asked!” She sounded horrified that he would think she was that gauche. “Are you pleased with the design?”
He nodded. “Very. Once it’s finished I’ll give you and Patsy a tour.”
“I know you said you don’t want to use your solar window design in everything you do. Have you included them in this?”
He shook his head. “No. Actually, I’m installing something new, an experimental window that I just developed. That way, if it’s a flop, I won’t have inflicted it on anyone but myself.”
She smiled. “But then you’ll be stuck with it.”
He shrugged. “I’ll renovate.”
She was studying him with eyes that he felt saw far more than normal. “You’re uncomfortable when you talk about designing with your windows. Why?”
He smiled wryly. “I just don’t want to be known as ‘the solar window guy.’ I’d like to design stunning things, no matter what materials I use, and be recognized for the quality of my designs.”
“And that’s been tough since the windows became such a hit,” she surmised.
He nodded. “That about sums it up.”
She was nodding as if she understood, and he felt an odd sense of gratification. “Why did you decide to expand your firm?”
He shrugged, wishing she’d curled up in the circle of his arm instead of clear at the far end of the couch. “I was in an accident and I had a lot of time to think while I was recovering. Design has always been my first love. I have some very creative, competent people in the Philadelphia office and I knew I could manage them from a distance, so I decided to try the Baltimore market.”
She was looking at him curiously, clearly distracted from talk of architecture, and his mental defenses went on high alert. “What kind of accident?”
“A freak one,” he said dryly, deliberately keeping his tone light. “Unlikely to happen to anyone again in a million years, they say. I used to play rugby, and I got kicked in the torso. Wound up with severe internal injuries.”
She looked horrified. “I never thought of rugby as a particularly rough sport.”
“I bet you never thought about it much at all,” he teased.
She smiled. “No, I suppose I didn’t. It’s similar to soccer, isn’t it?”
“Somewhat, but a lot less civilized. Maybe someday when it’s rained for a week and you’re bored silly I’ll explain the difference.” He grinned.
She smiled back. “So what kind of injuries did you have?”
Damn. He’d been hoping he wouldn’t have to lie outright. “Ah, a number of things were wrong,” he said, making a vague motion somewhere in the region of his stomach. Well, that was true enough. “I had surgery and then post-op recovery took a while. That gave me time to research several cities to see where my best chance at expansion lay.”
“And Baltimore was the best choice.”
&nb
sp; He nodded, relieved that she seemed to have been diverted from his injuries but again unwilling to lie outright. What would she do if he said, After I found out my donor heart came from Baltimore it was the only choice? “There were three top contenders on the Eastern seaboard. Baltimore is close to Philly, the climate is pleasant and when I visited, I liked the area.”
She smiled, picking up her glass for a sip. “The climate’s not always so pleasant in the dead of winter.”
“I don’t mind a little cold weather,” he said. “But Boston, for instance, is a little farther north than I really want to be. And Orlando in the summer? Forget it.”
“Those were the other two choices?” she asked, laughing. “From one extreme to the other.”
“Exactly.”
There was a small silence between them, a warm, comfortable moment that he wished would never end. Then he remembered how she’d looked when he had arrived. She’d clearly been crying; there were red marks around her eyes and the tip of her nose had been shiny and pink. “Catherine?”
“Yes?”
“Why were you crying earlier? And don’t give me that line about allergies again.”
She sighed. “It’s a long story—”
“Is Patsy seriously ill?” It was the first thing he’d thought of, even though she had reassured him earlier, and the most dreaded.
“Oh, no.” She was genuinely shocked. “There’s nothing like that wrong with her.”
“So why the tears?”
She heaved another sigh. “I postponed our family vacation. We always go over the Fourth, but this year, with my new position, it works out better if I wait until early September to take time off. Even if it is part-time,” she said defensively, “I can’t just drop everything and leave whenever I please.”
“Did Patsy expect that?”
“No. Not at all. She was just…disappointed. She said she had a headache and she decided not to have dinner with us. I felt badly for upsetting her.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “You two seem to have a nice relationship. I thought wives were supposed to loathe their mothers-in-law.”
She laughed, and warmth shot through him. “Not in this house. I couldn’t be luckier. She’s terrific.”
There was another silence, but it wasn’t quite as comfortable as the first. Finally, he said, “I’d better be going.” When she didn’t demur, but nodded assent and rose, he was disappointed. After the moments they’d shared upstairs, she was back to acting as if they were mere acquaintances.
He let her walk him to the door before he turned and spoke again. “I enjoyed tonight. I enjoyed it a lot.” He lifted his hands and lightly ran his palms up and down her upper arms in a gentle caress. “Tell me you did, too.”
Her eyes searched his face before she ducked her head and said, “I did, too.”
“I’d like to spend time with you and Michael again.”
Her head came up. “Why?”
He let the amusement show. “Because I’m wildly attracted to you and I think your kid is fantastic?”
“Good answer. But before I agree, you need to know that I’m not looking for any kind of…involvement.”
“How about fun and friendship?” She might not want to admit it, but they were already involved. He hadn’t intended to do more than observe her when he’d first come to the city. But now he saw how futile it was to try to stay away from her.
She was smiling hesitantly. “I suppose we could try that.”
“So what would you like to do?”
He waited as she thought. “We could have a picnic. Michael loves being outdoors.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow? It’s Saturday, so I don’t work.”
“Sounds good. I’ll come by at noon.”
When she nodded, he dropped his head and brushed one quick kiss over her lips. He wanted a real kiss, wanted to feel her wrapped around him, pressed against him, responding as she had that first time out in the garden, but he sensed she was struggling with herself. And though he didn’t know why, he wasn’t about to give her any excuse to back out. “See you tomorrow,” he said, and left.
Six
She should have her head examined. She should have said no. Well, no thank you, actually. She couldn’t get involved with Gray MacInnes. Shouldn’t. Wouldn’t.
Catherine set the bagged sandwiches in the cooler and opened the refrigerator, reaching into the hydrator for oranges and apples. Michael loved oranges if she cut them into small pieces so he didn’t choke on the stringy fibers. She began peeling the oranges, her mind automatically turning back to thoughts of Gray.
He was rolling in money. She was scrambling around trying not to lose her son’s family home. Gray would think she was after his money. Everyone would. And that was possibly the one thing that horrified her the most.
When she’d married Mike, she knew what was said behind her back. She’s after his money. She knew which side her bread was buttered on. I wonder what she had to do to get him to marry her—why else would he have married someone so unsuitable? The last was from the disgruntled mama of one of society’s belles of the upper crust.
She had ignored it then, because she’d genuinely loved Mike and they’d been so happy that the insults had largely rolled off her back. And Patsy had loved her from the beginning as well. Patsy had deflected the sly words with amusing stories about the persons in question, and her acceptance of Catherine had smoothed the path. Catherine’s own deportment and good taste had done the rest.
But she didn’t ever want to be subjected to that again. Despite Mike and Patsy’s insulating effect, the hateful attitudes had cut deeply into a young girl’s sensitive soul.
And now…now it wasn’t just her. Now there was Michael to consider.
She put the oranges and apple slices in a container together; the oranges would keep the apples from turning brown in the air. What else? Banana chips, another of Michael’s favorites. A few of the ginger-snaps Aline had made yesterday, lengths of cut celery, and drinks.
Anything she did would reflect on her son, she thought as she added napkins and zipped the insulated picnic bag closed, and she was determined that he grow up feeling at ease and fully a part of his father’s world. A wild fling with a wealthy bachelor was not part of the plan.
And it would be wild, she thought with a little shiver as she recalled the hot blue fire in his eyes last night. He’d looked at her as if he’d like to lie down with her right there on the floor. If Michael hadn’t been there, who knew what would have happened?
But Michael had been there. Thank God. She felt her lips curve up as she thought of how the big, dark-haired man and the tiny boy with the nearly white hair had looked, nestled into the rocking chair where she’d once nursed Michael.
They had looked so right, so perfect together, that it was impossible not to entertain the obvious thought: they had looked like father and son. Despite the difference in their coloring, there had been an intimate tenderness in the moment that had melted her heart. Gray might not know much about children, but if he didn’t like Michael, he was an Oscar-caliber actor.
“Here she is,” Patsy sang out as she entered the kitchen with Michael, whom she had dressed in a bright red shirt and a little denim romper with trains chugging across the front of it. “Look, Mama’s got your picnic all ready to go!”
“Thank you for dressing him,” Catherine said to her mother-in-law. “Are you sure you don’t want to come along?”
Patsy smiled. She seemed to have gotten past the unhappiness of the night before and was her usual cheerful self. “Since when have you known me to enjoy a picnic? Ants, flies, sitting on the ground…” She gave a mock shudder. “No, thank you. Anyway, I have a decorating committee meeting for the Iris Affair at one.”
The Iris Affair was a benefit dinner-dance for the local women’s shelter. It was held every year in June, and all the ladies on the committee traditionally grew dozens of delicate irises in glowing jewel hues which were used on the
night of the event.
Catherine sighed. “I’m nervous since it’s just going to be the three of us.”
“That’s not a bad thing,” Patsy said gently. “You’re allowed to have a date, dear.”
“It’s not a date,” Catherine said firmly. “It’s just a—a get-together. I’m not even sure how he talked me into it.”
Patsy only smiled. “He’s a very good-looking man. Maybe you should turn it into one.”
“I’m not interested in dating. I’ve got you and Michael. Why do I need someone else?”
Patsy’s lively face sobered. “You won’t have me forever, dear. And Michael’s going to grow up and lead his own life before you know what hit you. You’re still a young woman with a lot of years ahead of you.”
Ooo-kay. There didn’t seem to be a good answer to that. “It’s just a casual thing,” she finally said, working at convincing herself as much as she was at convincing Patsy. “I was going to take Michael out for a picnic lunch, anyway.”
Patsy just smiled again. “You have a good time.” As if on cue the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” she said.
Catherine took a deep breath, checking the diaper bag she planned on taking in case—well, in case. Moments later, Patsy came back down the hallway with Gray behind her.
“…haven’t had horses in the stable for more than a year now. Catherine sold Mike’s gelding a few months after the accident. She said it was just too difficult to look at poor Spruce out there with no one to ride him.”
Not to mention the fact that it cost a small fortune to feed and care for him, Catherine thought, wondering how on earth they had gotten on to that topic so quickly. The last thing she wanted was for Patsy to blab more of their personal concerns to Gray. “Hello.” She forced herself to meet Gray’s eyes with a friendly but impersonal smile. “Are you ready for this picnic?”
“Ready to rock and roll,” he said. “I’ll drive. Did you have a place in mind?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Oh, I wasn’t thinking of leaving the grounds. We have some lovely spots right here.”
Billionaire Bachelors: Gray Page 8