Lara shuddered, and Slade's arms tightened around her.
"Darlin', what is it?"
"Nothing," she said, "it's nothing."
She looked up. The look on his face was so serious that she was almost afraid to hear what he was going to say.
"My childhood wasn't exactly Happy Days, either," he said. His voice was gruff but his touch was gentle as he stroked her hair back from her face. "You and I are going to do a lot better than that for our son." He put his hand under her chin and lifted her face to his, his heart catching when he saw the glimmer of tears on her cheeks. "And for each other, darlin'. I promise."
Lara shook her head. She wanted to tell him not to make promises because promises were painfully easy to break but he bent to her, before she could speak, and kissed her.
"Breakfast can wait," he said softly. "Come with me, Lara. Let me show you the best way to greet the morning, and to begin the rest of our lives together."
The rest of our lives together. The words sang in Lara's heart.
"How?" she whispered.
Slade swept her into his arms and kissed her. She sighed and buried her face in his neck as he carried her back to their bed.
The weekend ended far too soon, but it led into a wonderful week.
By Friday, Slade felt like an old married man.
The thought made him grin.
Slade Baron, husband and father. Who would have believed it?
He was happy, he thought, as he put his signature to a stack of letters Betsy had brought in a few minutes before. Happy? That was the wrong word. Of course he was happy. What man wouldn't be, if he had a gorgeous, passionate wife and a son who was obviously going to grow up to be a rocket scientist or a star pitcher for the Red Sox or maybe an architect who would outshine even his old man?
Slade's grin widened.
What he was, was complete. Yes, that was it. For the first time in his thirty years-his almost thirty years, he thought, glancing at his desk calendar-for the very first time in his entire life, he felt whole. He had a wife and a son, and they had closed a circle he hadn't even realized needed closing.
It was time to break the news to Trav and Gage and Catie. And to his partners, who'd already figured something was up because, as Jack had put it just yesterday, he kept walking around looking like a cat with an endless supply of canaries in cream sauce. Well, he would tell them, all of them-right after this weekend.
It was going to be a very special weekend.
He suspected Lara was going to give him a birthday present. She had that look about her the last couple of days, the one that said she knew something he didn't. He smiled. He might be in for a surprise but she was, -too. He was going to tell his wife she'd already given him the most precious gifts in the world. First Michael, and now herself. She was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He wanted to tell her that, in a very special setting.
It was the reason he was leaving early and heading home, unannounced.
Slade slipped on his jacket and picked up the letters. Whistling softly, he strolled from his office, dropped the letters on Betsy's desk, wished her a pleasant weekend and headed to the street.
Last weekend had been wonderful. He and Lara had walked in the woods, and fished. Well, he'd fished. Lam couldn't bear the thought of putting a worm on a hook so she'd simply sat beside him, dangling her feet in the cool lake water. Later, he'd cleaned the trout he'd caught and cooked them over the grill on the deck, and then he'd enticed Lam into stripping down to the buff and going skinny dipping. They'd made love in the water, and then he'd carried her back to the cabin and they'd made love again.
Slade grinned. "Control yourself, Baron," he murmured, as he got behind the wheel of the Jaguar.
It had been a great weekend, but this one was going to be even better.
That was why he was heading home two hours early. He'd made all his plans days ago. First he would fly them to New York in his Comanche. He'd stay low, out of the way of the big planes, so she could see how beautiful the city was, from the sky. That view had always made his skin prickle, and he wanted to share it with her.
Then they'd take a taxi to the Plaza, where he'd booked a suite overlooking the park. They had dinner reservations at a French restaurant Ted Levine said served the best potau-feu this side of the Atlantic and afterward, he'd take her dancing, then finish the evening with a carriage ride through Central Park. And first thing tomorrow morning, he was taking his wife to Tiffany's. A woman should have an engagement ring and a wedding band, even if her husband gave them to her after the fact.
He'd give her a weekend to remember, tell her what she meant to him...
And try not to wonder how many other men had done the same stupid thing.
"Hell," Slade said. He pulled the car to the curb, oblivious to the sudden angry blast of horns behind him.
Why did he keep thinking that way? It didn't matter how many men there'd been before him. What counted was that there'd never be another man after him. He'd made it clear that he expected Lara to be faithful and besides, they made each other happy. She wouldn't look elsewhere. She wouldn't need to.
"Damned right, she won't," he said, and headed into traffic again.
He entered the house through the back door. Helga was at the sink. She looked up in surprise and he put his finger to his lips.
"Upstairs," she whispered, and he smiled and eased past her.
That meant Lara was in their bedroom. Their bedroom, he thought, as he went toward it. After last weekend, neither of them had even suggested sleeping alone. Amazing, how his life had gone from disaster to paradise in so few days.
He paused in the open doorway, smiling as he caught sight of his wife. She was sitting on the edge of their bed, her back to him, talking on the telephone in a low-pitched voice.
"No," she said, and gave a soft, husky laugh, "no, he doesn't suspect a thing."
Slade felt the smile freezing on his lips. He told himself to make some noise. Clear his throat, shuffle his feet-do something, anything, to let her know he was listening...
"There's no way he can find out, not if I don't tell him, and believe me, I won't. Uh-huh. Yes, I know. Lots and lots of champagne." She laughed again, the sound low and intimate. He could see that she'd crossed her legs and was swinging one foot, back and forth, back and forth. "I'm willing to leave the details up to you. I know, I know; we don't know each other very well but... Fine. I'll meet you there. Yes, in the suite. At seven. Well, maybe a bit later, if I can't come up with an excuse my husband will buy. Me, too. I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to tomorrow night, Elliot. Uh-huh. Yes. Goodbye."
Slade could feel his blood pounding in his ears. He watched as Lara hung up the phone, sighed and lazily stretched her arms over her head.
In that moment, he hated her as he'd never hated another human being in his life. It was all a lie. Everything. The things she whispered, when they made love. The way she looked at him, as if he were the center of her universe.
He wanted to go to her, sling her over his shoulder, carry her down the stairs and throw her out of his house. Or maybe shove her back on that bed, rip off her clothes and unzip his fly and take her even as she fought him off, just take her again and again until she knew goddamned well who she belonged to...
He must have done something, made a sound, because suddenly she looked around.
"Slade." She bit her lip and rose to her feet and, damn her, she couldn't even control the gleam of guilt that shone in her eyes. "Slade, you're home early."
He said nothing. What could he say, while his wife tried to smile?
"How long have you been standing there?" He could see her throat constrict as she swallowed. "I mean-"
"I know what you mean," he said, his voice a monotone, barely above a whisper. He shoved his hands deep into his trouser pockets because he was afraid of what he might do with them otherwise. "I know exactly what you mean,
She smiled nervously, tu
cked a strand of hair behind her ear and came toward him. "Did you, ah, did you overhear ...?„
The towering wave of fury that threatened to drag him under must have shown on his face because she took a hurdled step back when he moved. Not in time, though. He caught her by the shoulders, his hands hard on her flesh but not nearly as hard as the pain he could feel gutting his heart.
"Who is he?" he said. "Who's the man you're planning to meet?"
Her mouth dropped open. "What?"
"The man. The son of a bitch on the phone." He shook her and her hair flew around her face. "Tell me his name!"
"There is no man." Lara's voice trembled. "There's only you."
Slade let go of her. He wanted to believe her. God, he wanted to.
"You don't trust me," she said.
"How can I? You lie as easily as most people breathe." He caught hold of her again, anguish darkening his eyes. "Tell me who you were talking to."
Lara stared into her husband's face. She could tell him, and bare her heart to him, but what was the sense? He might pretend to believe her but the same thing would happen, again and again. Sooner or later, Slade would strip her of everything. Her pride. Her dignity. And perhaps, even, her love. It took love and trust to make a marriage, she thought just as she'd thought it days before, at the cabin.. .and Slade wasn't capable of either, when they involved her.
The realization was shattering, but he would never know it. The only thing left to her now was her pride.
"No," she said softly, and pulled free of his grasp.
His face twisted. He raised his hand and she waited, head high, for a blow that never came. Instead he swung away from her and pounded his fist into and straight through the wall. He felt her brush past him, heard the clatter of her footsteps on the steps, but he didn't move.
It was over. His dreams of what might have been, his hopes---everything was finished. He had a wife and a son but nothing else because he knew the truth, now, the truth he'd worked so hard to deny.
His wife was everything he'd thought she was, the embodiment of every female who'd plagued the Baron clan. She was immoral. Deceitful. Unfaithful.
And he, Heaven help him, had fallen in love with her.
* * *
CHAPTER TWELVE
DAYLIGHT faded, became dusk. Dusk gave way to nightfall, but Slade hardly noticed.
Lara was gone. She'd left in a cab, an hour ago, and she'd taken Michael with her. He'd watched from the window watched, and let it happen because he knew now that the world he'd created had been a fantasy. He'd wanted his son to have two parents and a loving home but a man couldn't orchestrate that any more than he could tell the wind which way to blow.
His heart ached with the loss. Not of Lara-hell, he'd known what she was when he married her. He didn't love her. A couple of hours sitting here, in the darkening room, and he'd shaken that foolish illusion out of his head.
It was Michael he was going to miss. Slade's jaw tightened. If Lara thought she was going to keep him out of his son's life, she was wrong. Tomorrow morning, first thing, he'd phone his attorney, tell him to begin whatever proceedings were necessary to gain custody.
No. Dammit, he couldn't do that. Slade scrubbed his hands over his eyes. The boy loved his mother and she loved him. And whatever else she was, Lara was a good mother. Joint custody, then. He'd have his son weekends, holidays, summers ... let his lawyer work it out.
That was what he should have done, right from the beginning, instead of forcing Lara into marrying him. What a damn-fool thing that had been to do! You designed a building, you could count on it turning out the way you'd intended, but you couldn't build a family by design. One man, one woman, one child didn't add up to anything, without love. It wasn't enough that he loved his son. A marriage wasn't a marriage without love.
And he had never loved Lara. He'd known that, going in. He'd wanted her, yes. She was incredible in bed but there wasn't anything else between them...
The phone rang. Slade grabbed it. "Hello," he snarled, "and whoever this is, I'll tell you right now, I'm not in the mood for chit-chat."
"Well, neither am I," Travis snarled back.
"Trav?" Slade sat on the edge of the bed. "Hey, man. How'd you know I needed to-"
"What the hell is the matter with the female of the species, kid?"
"The fact that they are female. That's what's the matter with them."
"Yeah." Travis cleared his throat. "The thing is-there's this woman."
"There always is."
"I asked her to move in with me."
Slade got to his feet. "You what? Listen, before you do anything serious-"
"It isn't serious. I mean, okay, it's serious now. But it won't be serious forever. We have an understanding. We stay together, no strings, no commitments-"
Slade made a choked sound he hoped might pass for a laugh. "They all want commitments. But they want them when they want them, not when you get around to making them."
"Huh? What are you talking about?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all. Look, about this babe-"
"She's not a`babe.' Her name is Alexandra."
"Alexandra." Slade rubbed the back of his neck and told himself to concentrate on what Travis was saying. "Classy name. Wasn't the babe-the woman who bought you at that auction named Alexandra?"
"What if she was?"
"Hey, there's no need to get defensive. I'm just surprised, that's all. I mean, the lady bought you for hot times-" "Watch how you talk about her," Travis said coldly. "All I'm saying is that it's sort of unusual that she's become your mistress."
"She's not my mistress."
"What would you call her, then? If she's living in your house?"
"That's the problem. She's got to be called something when I introduce her to people."
"She has a name, right? So just use it."
"We're living together, dammit. How do I let people know that?"
I have a wife who hates me, Slade thought. How do I let people know that?
"Well?" Travis said. "You got an answer for me, kid?" Slade didn't have answers for either of them, but he figured that wasn't what his brother wanted to hear.
"Well," he said slowly, "why should they have to know it?"
"Because she doesn't want to be some kind of secret, as if she doesn't have a real place in my life." Travis sighed.
"I just need to call her something."
"Your date?" "Hell, no." "Your lover?"
"No, she'd never go for that."
"How about calling her your friend?"
Travis laughed, and Slade closed his eyes. You could always do what I did, he almost said, you could marry her
and call her your wife...
"She's your mistress," he said brusquely. "Leave it at
That."
"She's not. Well, okay, she is. The thing is, she's more than a mistress."
"Then tell her so," Slade said, trying to curb his impatience. His brother was tied up in knots because he had a woman living with him but dammit, she wasn't his wife. She hadn't walked out the door because he was too dumb or maybe too proud to tell her how he really felt, that he that he…
"Yeah," Travis said, "maybe you're right. `Princess,' I could say, `Alex, I just want you to know that you're more than a mistress to me..."'
The line went dead. Slade looked at the phone, thought about calling Travis back, then thought better of it. His brother, asking him for advice about a woman? Hell, that was a good one. He didn't know a thing about the species. Just look at what he'd been thinking, a minute ago, that maybe he’d felt something for Lara.
Okay, so making love with her was fantastic. And he liked being with her. Talking to her about stuff, nothing special, just things he'd never discussed with another woman. He'd told her about the redtail hawks that nested in the old oak near the cabin. About how he'd built that cabin himself, log by log. He'd even told her about that first week tending bar years ago, when he'd put himself throu
gh school, and how he'd managed to spill a Scotch and soda in the lap of the head of his department.
And Lam had listened as if every word was wonderful and exciting, and he'd listened to her the same way, smiling when she told him how much in common they had, how she'd worked her way through school as a waitress and dumped tomato soup all over her first customer.
Slade groaned and ran his hands through his hair.
Who was he trying to kid? Yes, he missed Michael but losing his wife was like losing his soul. He'd see his son again, smile with him, hug him, kiss him, share his life, but Lara was lost to him forever. Her smile. Her sweet laughter. The way she looked, first thing in the morning, her face shining with joy as he gathered her into his arms and kissed her...
The telephone rang again. Slade grabbed it, his heart racing. Maybe it was Lara...
But it wasn't. It was Travis, calling back.
"Listen, kid," he said abruptly, "Gage just phoned. He's laving a bad time."
"Yeah," Slade said. "There's a lot of that going around lately."
"Just call him, okay? I'll give you his number."
"I know his number."
"He isn't home. I got this from my caller ID box. Take it down."
Slade scribbled the numerals on a pad, then rubbed his forehead. "Listen, man, actually-actually, this isn't the
best "
"Tell him not to be an idiot," Travis said, gruffly. "No man should ever let a woman he loves get away from him."
"Love," Slade said, and laughed again. "Who even knows what the word means?"
"You'll know, kid. Believe me, when it happens, you'll know.
Travis hung up. Slade sighed and dialed the number his brother had given him. It wasn't a good night for the Baron brothers.
Gage answered immediately. "Slade? How'd you-"
"Travis called me."
"How? I didn't give him this number."
"Welcome to the age of the chip," Slade said dryly. "His caller ID box gave it to him. Where are you, anyway?"
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