by Karina Bliss
He’d wondered if that had been bothering her. “Sam raised the possibility.”
The man hadn’t even seen the question as offensive. “I tell it like it is,” he’d said when his wife and daughter objected.
He was such a hopeless case that Joe hadn’t wasted any more time on him. The guy was more than capable of hurtling to hell by his own efforts.
Pip untucked her feet and sat up straighter, and the book on her lap hit the floor with a thud. “I made such a fool of myself!”
Now they were following Joe’s script. He patted her hand, feeling a return of the extraordinary tenderness she always roused in him.
Standing, she swung around and pointed a finger at him. “And it’s all your fault.”
“My fault?”
“And don’t you ever use our child as an excuse not to be a winemaker.”
He couldn’t follow her logic. “What the hell has that got to do with anything?”
“I have absolutely no intention of being a financial burden to you,” she said impatiently. “If it comes to that, I’ll go back to work six weeks after the birth and—”
Joe sprang to his feet. “No stranger’s looking after our baby.”
“If I’m home, Mum will look after it.”
His temper flared. “Are you even keeping an open mind about this?”
“Are you?” she countered. Pip carried her mug to the sink and tipped the tea down the drain. “There’s a strong possibility I’ll go back to New Zealand, Joe, so keep that option open, too.”
Eyeing her stiff back, he jammed his fists in the pockets of his pants. “Look, if it’s the family…Sue and I…”
“Your family’s great. It’s you I’m having trouble with. None of this fiasco would have happened today if you’d shared some information.” Her sheepskin slippers slapped the parquet floor as she returned to the living room. “But, no, you can’t disclose anything, can you, Joe, that might reveal any vulnerability?”
He cloaked himself in icy detachment. “That’s ridiculous and you know it. What about Kaitlin? I accepted your help then.”
“Because you were desperate and I was a stranger, someone transient in your life.” Pip picked up a couch cushion that had fallen on the floor, and clutched it protectively to her breast. “As soon as that changed, you had to wrest back control, challenge me to a duel and prove you were the tough guy again.”
He shook his head in mute protest, but she kept up the attack. “You dropped your guard again when you discovered I was leaving, but since the pregnancy I’m back to arm’s length.” Her voice rising in frustration, Pip flung the cushion back onto the couch. “And you have the gall to tell me to keep an open mind about staying. You can’t even admit to yourself that you love me, let alone—”
“Yeah?” Joe was stung into a reply. “Well, I haven’t exactly heard you shouting it from the rooftops.”
“Because I know you’ll see it as a weakness and use it to manipulate me into doing what you want!” Eyes flashing, Pip stormed closer until they stood toe to toe. “We’re supposed to be making an honest attempt to find a way forward together. Instead I feel like I’m in a war.” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “Fighting for my independence—” another jab “—fighting over this baby—” jab, jab “—fighting to know you!”
He heard the catch in her voice. Joe clasped her shoulders. “Truce.”
Pip was breathing hard, breasts rising and falling rapidly, hair drying in wild tendrils, cheeks flushed. He’d never fought with Nadia. Even at the end they’d kept things civilized.
But this stubborn, insightful, infuriating woman made him feel anything but civilized, effortlessly provoking all the emotions he’d be a fool to trust—passion, possessiveness, recklessness.
“Truce,” he repeated, and kissed her.
It had been so long, too damn long since he’d held her like this, tasted her like this—toothpaste, sweet tea and passionate woman. With an angry moan Pip submitted to the kiss, her hands fisting in his shirt as she hauled him closer and answered the thrust of his tongue. Heat arced between them. Joe’s heart pumped harder, his blood fired.
How could such a small woman have so much power to move him? She only had to quiver to disarm him, gently nip his lower lip to make him shudder with need. Every nerve ending responded to her; with one fingertip caress along his jaw she owned his body.
Pip broke the kiss. “A truce is not a resolution.” She let go of his shirt, but only to undo it and push it off his shoulders. Joe opened her robe and exposed her breasts, pale and beautiful, already fuller with pregnancy. The sight made him feel protective and fiercely possessive.
“So negotiate.” Sliding her robe to her waist, he lifted her half-naked body and suckled on one pink nipple.
“Ohh.” Her cry was astonished, doubtful. Immediately, Joe stopped. “Too tender?”
She swallowed. “Too good.”
He returned to his work, losing the last of his rational mind with every soft cry, drunk with the taste and scent and warmth of her. Joe stumbled toward the couch and sat Pip down, then knelt before her and untied the sash of her robe while she wrestled with his belt buckle.
She pushed down his jeans; he felt cool air, then hot hands on his erection as she guided him into her, so wet, so inviting that his mind seized.
His body began the instinctive thrust and withdrawal while Joe fought the urge to plunge deeper, to go past the point of no return. “What do you want from me, Pip?”
“Stop hiding from me,” she panted.
With an immense effort he stopped, even though it made everything ache, not the least his heart. “Then say you’ll stay.” He would give, but only enough to keep her.
Pip shuddered around him and he couldn’t hold back, clutching at the pieces of his soul, knowing that some of them would never return. And that was a horror to him. Afterward, he made himself hold her. “Stay.”
Sitting up, Pip reached for her robe. “I need more time to make a decision. Please understand.”
“I’m trying, but I’ve got a vested interest, remember?” Drained and frustrated, Joe started to dress. “My child.”
Pip dropped her head in her hands. “You think I don’t know that?”
Like he knew, deep down, the sacrifice she’d have to make to stay. Looking at her bowed head, Joe stopped pretending there was an easy answer. He gathered Pip in a bear hug and gave her the comfort they both needed. “Okay, let’s try this your way. What do you want to know?”
Her arms tightened around him. “Not what,” she said. “Who.”
“ADAM, MEET PIP.”
“Hello, Mr. Fraser.”
His father grunted, a sound conveying the opposite of the welcome Joe knew Adam intended. Joe started to sweat, but Pip approached the bed and took the clumsily proffered hand without self-consciousness. “I’ve been nervous about this meeting,” she confessed, and Adam’s half smile faded. “Knocked up isn’t how I wanted to meet you.”
His father snorted a laugh and Joe breathed a silent sigh of relief. He pulled the two chairs up beside the bed. “I guess I should have mentioned her bluntness.”
Adam frowned at him. “Bad…habit…pregnant…”
“My fault this time, I’m afraid,” answered Pip as she sat down. “I was on the pill, but—”
“Can we please not discuss our contraceptive failures with my father?” Joe interrupted her.
Pip and Adam exchanged another smile, then she began a casual monologue about New Zealand and her family, encouraged by fragmented questions from Adam.
Only when he felt his shoulders relax into the chair did Joe realize how tense he usually was around visitors, even Daniel, Sue and Belle. Every family connection felt like a fuse, all too easily ignited. But Pip didn’t carry that baggage and she also had an extraordinary ability to read people and respond accordingly.
Within five minutes she was telling Adam what a great student his granddaughter was. Joe looked away, unable to bear the yearning in his father
’s eyes.
Kaitlin sat downstairs at the nurses’ station, drawing her grandfather a picture to join the dozen already papering the walls.
Joe had expected Pip to protest when he’d told Kaitlin to stay put, but she’d said nothing. His gaze fell on the latest painting, pinned beside Adam’s bed.
Made up of three panels, it showed a guy progressing through what looked to be a heart attack. Joe winced. Leaning closer, he read the caption. Three things to help you get better: 1. Smile. 2. Giggle 3. Laugh.
For fully five minutes, Joe stared at the picture before he moved. “Excuse me a minute, will you?”
His daughter’s head was bent over a drawing, the tip of her tongue poking out in concentration. As he came closer, he saw the picture was of a clown with enormous feet. The text in the speech bubble came into focus. You think you got troubles? Try walking in these shoes.
“Kaitlin?” He held out a hand. “You want to say hello to Grandpa?”
She was on her feet in a second, the crayons tumbling from her lap. “Do I!”
Ascending the stairs, he tried to prepare her, but she interrupted him. “Yeah, Dad, I know. Pip told me what to expect.”
He stopped. “Pip.”
“Yeah.” Kaitlin tugged him forward. “She said you’d probably come round if we left you in peace to think about it.” Okay, it was fine that she read other people, but Joe didn’t like the idea of Pip reading him. Half exasperated, half amused, he halted Kaitlin at Adam’s door and heard her quick intake of breath. His heart stopped. He’d got this wrong. But then she rushed forward. “Grandpa.”
Unaware she’d chosen Adam’s paralyzed side, Kaitlin clutched at his arm and kissed his cheek.
“Kaitlin.”
Joe steered his daughter to the other side of the bed and picked up Adam’s good hand to place it in Kaitlin’s. But before he could, Adam’s grip tightened. With a shock, Joe saw his father’s eyes were moist. “Thanks…son.”
Joe dropped his hand as though it were a hot coal. “You’re welcome, Adam.”
Adam turned his attention to Kaitlin, who was checking him over with great interest.
“You look better than you used to,” she confided naively. “You were a little bit fat before, Grandpa.”
Adam expelled a laugh. “Missed…you.”
“Is that the only way you talk now?”
Joe led the conversation into safer channels, encouraging Kaitlin to chat so Adam didn’t have to. Underneath, his will fought his father’s. I can’t give you what you want. He became aware that Pip was studying him, but when he glanced over she looked away. Still, Joe sensed disapproval, and it made him angry. She had no right to judge him.
When Kaitlin ran out of things to say—“it’s only nineteen days until Christmas, Grandpa. I’ll make you some decorations”—Pip took over. Mercilessly she began lampooning Joe’s experiences at camp, until Kaitlin was giggling and Adam had tears of laughter running down his face.
Joe barely cracked a smile. He should have told Adam these stories. Stewing over Pip’s rejection and resentful about losing his apartment, he’d shared only the barest details of the camp experience.
And when had he last heard Pip laugh like this? Frustration boiled inside him, all the more lethal for being contained. It didn’t matter what Joe gave, people always wanted more. He’d all but bankrupted himself for his father and still Adam wanted some mawkish father-son bond.
Joe shifted restlessly in his chair. He was prepared to do his duty by Pip, but oh, no, that wasn’t good enough. He had to buy access to his own child by coughing up love like a goddamn fur ball. Give her a family to replace the perfect one she’d left in New Zealand.
Pip was no different from Nadia, picking away at him, asking for more than he wanted to give. And making him feel bad for withholding it.
Watching the three of them enjoy a joke at his expense, Joe became furious. No, Pip was worse than Nadia because she held up a mirror to his failings and made him mourn for the guy he could never be—inclusive, trusting, openhearted.
Suddenly he couldn’t bear to be around her, this woman with her limitless capacity to love. This woman who made him need her in a way Joe didn’t want to need anyone.
He couldn’t let his life revolve around her as it had once revolved around Sue. With all that potential for hurt.
Abruptly, he stood up. “I’m going to get a soda.” Joe left before they could answer.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“HE DIDN’T ASK IF we wanted sodas,” Kaitlin said, puzzled. It wasn’t like Dad to forget his manners. “I’ll go tell him.”
“I’ll go,” said Pip. “You stay and talk to your grandpa. Want one, Mr. Fraser?”
Grandpa shook his head. “Adam,” he stressed.
Smiling, Pip nodded. “Adam.”
There was a silence after she left. For the first time, Kaitlin felt awkward in her grandfather’s presence. Sneaking a peek, she saw he looked worried. “Are you okay, Grandpa?”
He grunted. “How…Dad…money?”
“Okay since he sold his apart—” Kaitlin squirmed. Keeping secrets was harder than she thought. “His company’s having their Christmas party at the Aquarium this year so the kids aren’t bored,” she finished, proud of her recovery.
“Need…help,” said Grandpa.
Petrified, she started to the door. “I’ll get someone.”
“No!” He panted a little. “Your…help.” He held out his hand. “Secret.”
Though she was flattered, Kaitlin felt compelled to warn him, “I’m not great at secrets, Grandpa. I mean, I don’t go and tell people on purpose, but sometimes it just comes out.”
“Try.”
His faded blue eyes were so serious she nodded. He gestured to the bedside table. “Drawer.”
Kaitlin opened it, holding up the contents one by one until he grunted. It took a long time for Grandpa to tell her what he wanted, and his eyes kept sliding toward the door, but she’d got the gist of it by the time Dad came back. He was alone.
“Didn’t Pip find you?”
“No.” He didn’t look happy. And he was empty-handed.
“Where are the sodas?”
“Right here.” Pip walked in behind him, holding three cans. She handed Kaitlin a cherry Coke, gave Joe a Sprite. “I couldn’t find you.”
“I needed some air. Thanks for this.” But Dad didn’t look at Pip. Instead he looked at her. “Time to get going, honey.”
“But we haven’t—”
“Listen…to…father,” Grandpa growled, then winked.
Kaitlin leaned over and kissed his hollow cheek. He smelled of shaving lotion, ointments and old age. He’d never smelled old before.
She felt very important and brave and scared in case the task he’d given her was too hard for someone who was ten. Princess Belle would have felt like this, setting off to ask the Beast to spare her father.
But Pip had said the more secrets a family kept, the more dis-something they were. Kaitlin didn’t know what that meant, but figured it had to be a good thing. And if keeping secrets was in her genes, she’d try to be better at it.
When Pip shook hands with Grandpa, he lifted her fingers to his lips. “Fine…woman.”
“Grandaaad!” Kaitlin had forgotten he could be embarrassing sometimes.
But Pip only laughed. “Don’t your Disney princes ever do that in the movies?”
That reminded Kaitlin of something she’d been meaning to tell Grandpa when she’d started choosing names for the baby. “Did you know that the Beast’s name was Adam before the witch put a spell on him, Grandpa? And he was Prince Adam when he turned back. I think we should call—”
“We’re going now, Kaitlin,” Dad interrupted in a tone she always obeyed. “See you tomorrow, Adam.” Man, he was grumpy suddenly.
Sitting in the back of the car on the way home, Kaitlin thought about Grandpa and how he’d looked and how he’d smelled. “Will Grandpa die, Dad?”
“No,�
� he said. “He’s going to be okay.”
But she saw Pip’s sadness as her teacher glanced at Dad, and had her real answer.
Kaitlin stared out the window as the car crawled across the Golden Gate Bridge. Pedestrians and cyclists—probably tourists—were being buffeted by a high wind.
Thinking about Grandpa dying was like losing a tooth. Even when you knew it made you feel funny you couldn’t stop yourself from poking at the spongy hole. But Grandpa must hate not being able to move much, or talk properly. And he was already old. Old people died.
Kaitlin straightened in her seat. “How old are you, Dad?”
“Nearly thirty, why?”
“Promise you won’t die until I’m at least twenty.”
His eyes met hers in the rearview mirror. “Is this because of Grandpa? I told you—”
“I have to be a grown-up, Dad, before you leave me.”
There was silence in the car, only a thin whistle where the wind had found a gap in one of the windows. Then Pip laid a hand on Dad’s knee. “I promise,” he said.
Her primary concern addressed, Kaitlin thought about what she needed to do for Grandpa. Now that she knew he was dying, it was more important than ever not to let him down.
“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL Kaitlin the truth about Adam?”
Joe and Pip were making dinner together an hour after dropping Kaitlin home. He’d known this confrontation was coming, and welcomed it.
“You were the one who said a cynic is an idealist who gives up.” Shaking the water out of the lettuce, Joe began breaking the leaves into a salad bowl. “Doctors aren’t always right.”
Lamb chops sizzled in the pan, fragrant with rosemary. Pip stopped turning the meat. “Joe.” So much empathy loaded in that one word. It made his heart ache.
“Look, I don’t need negativity right now. It’s hard enough—” He caught himself. “If you want to disapprove, fine. But don’t judge me, Pip.” Joe realized he was shredding the lettuce in smaller and smaller pieces and stopped.
“I’m not,” she said quietly. “Your relationship with your father is your business.”
He needed a fight and she chose to be understanding. In two knife strokes he quartered the tomatoes and tossed them in with the lettuce. “What father? You mean the guy that showed up ten months ago after a lifetime of neglect, expecting to pick up where we left off? That guy?”