Grant did a double take between her and the baby. “It is? I mean, I saw the bear, but I didn’t realize—” Grant looked confused. “Now how did that—”
He took her elbow and pulled her down the three wide steps to the living room. Grant didn’t stop until he’d positioned them in front of the bank of tall, narrow windows that replaced an east-facing wall and which blended with the moonlight to elongate their shadows across the hardwood floors.
Only then, with Laura’s heart beating in time with her desire for him, with the way he looked in the moonlight, did Grant ask, “How did he get that logo on his sleeper, Laura? You haven’t even shown me the design yet In fact, that’s why I came to your office today. To see it for myself, since it seems that you’d been avoiding me.”
Oh, she had him now. It was all she could do not to grin. He wasn’t getting away with this one. Not bothering to extricate herself from his grip, since she really did like the proprietary feel of his hand on her, Laura cocked her head at a questioning angle. “You came over to see the design? Well, that meeting’s scheduled for next Monday.”
He looked blank. Laura grinned, capturing her lower lip between her teeth. A gotcha moment Grant didn’t seem to want to look at her. Finally, he obliquely met her gaze and admitted, “I know that.”
“You knew? And yet you still came by? Why?” To see me? Please say to see me.
Grant caved. “All right. You beat it out of me. I came by because…I wanted to see you. There. I said it. I wanted to see you. Happy?”
“Yeah,” she blurted. “I mean…no. Okay, yes. I mean…you did? Why?” Laura hated how girlishly excited her voice sounded, even to her own ears. And how her heart raced. Clearing her throat, forcing herself to speak normally, she added, “I mean, for business reasons? Or for, um, personal reasons?”
Grant frowned. “Personal reasons…that have to do with business. Family business.”
“Ah. Family.” Silence followed. “Mine or yours?”
“Mine. I told my parents I’d seen you, that we’re working together. And they…sent you their regards. Which I came by to convey.”
Not even her happy realization that he’d used the flimsiest of excuses to track her down could save Laura’s expression, which soured at his mention of his parents. “Muriel and Stanton Maguire sent their regards? To me? No doubt, skewered on the end of a lance. So, Grant…how are your parents?” Who hate my guts and always have. Me, the girl from the wrong side of the tracks. Not even close to blue-blooded enough for their only child and heir.
“Older. Rethinking their lives. Things like that.” Grinning, apparently unoffended, Grant crossed his arms over his muscled chest and stared at her, seeming to make it a point to look directly into her eyes. “But still as rich and snooty and condescending as ever.” Laura’s eyes widened. Enough to make Grant chuckle and add, “Surprised to hear me say that?”
She nodded slowly. “Yes, I am. Ten years ago I could have held your feet to the flames and you still wouldn’t have admitted they were—” her courage failed her and she finished lamely “—all those things you said. Except the rich part. That was never arguable.”
His chuckle turned to a bark of laughter. “That’s true. But people—and I’m talking about me here—people change, Laura. They grow and mature.” His expression warmed, as did his honey-brown eyes. “Meaning, I know and understand a lot of things now that I didn’t before. So do they. To an extent.”
Does that extent still end at a line drawn in front of me? she wanted to ask. But couldn’t. Because after so many years, what was the point? “I’m glad to hear you—they—know and understand some things now. Good for you. All of you.”
Another soft chuckle from him. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” Laura responded, not really knowing what to make of Grant’s behavior. Not only was he giving off intimacy vibes, but he acted as if she kept saying the wrong lines in a play they’d rehearsed. Clearly she wasn’t behaving as he’d expected. Well, neither was he. Behaving, that is. Or maybe that was the problem. He was behaving, and she didn’t want him to. Get over him—it—Laura.
But since he continued to stare quietly at her and to stir her feminine juices, Laura offered a smile, a tenuous one at best, one that didn’t have a prayer of holding up under scrutiny. Sure enough, it slipped away the instant it formed. And left Laura feeling liquid and even more awkward than she had felt a moment ago. “Will you say something, please?” she blurted.
Grant spread his hands wide. “Sure. Like what?”
Exasperation—with him, with herself, with his effect on her—ruled. So she did the only thing she could. She attacked their past together. “Like saying how you should have believed me ten years ago when I told you your parents never missed a chance to remind me how you and I came from two different worlds. How I’d never fit in yours and you wouldn’t be happy in mine. How they’d disinherit you if you married me. Things along that line. I think I deserve that much after ten years of silence. Call it closure.”
“Closure.” Grant exhaled and reached out to slip that same errant lock of hair behind her ear. At his touch, a betraying shiver of want, of need raced over Laura’s skin. “All right Yes, they said all that,” Grant said, his husky voice seeming to make her vibrate where she stood. “I know it. And I’m sorry they acted like such jerks. But my parents weren’t our real problem, Laura. Not in the long run.”
“Oh?” she asked while managing to swallow the sudden thickening in her throat. “What was our real problem, then?”
“It’s hard to say. I think we—Well, maybe I just wasn’t mature enough to recognize and fight their social prejudices. Or maybe you and I just didn’t love each other enough. Maybe that was our problem. I mean, we did let them pull us apart.”
“Wow,” Laura said quietly, blinking back tears. “I’m impressed. You’ve really given that some thought, haven’t you?”
Grant smiled wistfully. “It sure sounds like it, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah.” Something, perhaps a seed of hope unacknowledged, died inside Laura. They hadn’t loved each other enough, he said. Well, he certainly sounded over it to her. So what could she say? How could she answer that bit of closure? He’d left her no room to maneuver.
Grant turned from her to stare out the curtainless windows. “Just so you’ll know…I blame myself, Laura. I was young and I was stupid. But I should have stuck by you. And told them to go to hell.”
Laura’s breath caught. She’d always wanted to hear him say those exact words. To acknowledge what he’d not believed before—his parents’ treatment of her. And now? Well, he had. But she hated it. It seemed admissions of guilt were not what she wanted from him. And that surprised her. “You can’t put all the blame on yourself, Grant. I mean, there we both were—the young and the stupid. We could’ve been a soap opera.”
He chuckled but didn’t say anything. Which left Laura staring at his broad-shouldered back and breathing in his male, citrus-cologned scent. And wondering about this new Grant who seemed so reflective and philosophic. What had happened to make him this way? Or—worse—could he be facing something now that had him looking at life differently? And while we’re at it, she chastised herself, what’s wrong with you, Laura?
Her first inclination was to deny the whole thing. But then, quirking her mouth into a grimace of guilt, she admitted that she’d been on Grant’s case from the moment he’d stepped into her office this afternoon. When all he’d done was come to see her—as he had every work-related right to do—and then had pitched in to help her with the baby. And how had she, Ms. I’m Clinging to the Past, repaid him? By being snide and hateful. Darn it, she hated this vindictive side she had, just as much as she’d hated it in Muriel and Stanton Maguire. Those two and their, “The rich are just different.” Boy, I’ll say.
What was even harder to take was that her mother agreed with them! It was after Grant had left her that she’d sworn off marriage. Nothing but chaos and hurt there. And
nothing had happened in the interim to change her mind, despite two past-but-serious relationships. And despite that twinge of bridal envy she’d suffered earlier at the office.
Now, just hold on. Laura came to her own defense. What single, thirty-year-old woman wouldn’t suffer such a pang, wouldn’t wonder about that walk down the aisle and who’d be at the end of it?
Grant chose that moment to shake his head, chuckle and look at her. “So, how is Vivian, anyway? I think I missed that outrageous woman almost as much as I did you. Talk about an Earth Mother. I thought she was going to feed me and pamper me to death.”
Grateful to him for the change in subject, Laura replied, “You loved every minute of it. Admit it.”
“I do. I admit it,” Grant said, in a more serious tone than Laura had anticipated. She sobered, stared at him, saw again the remnants of the lonely young man he’d been in college, the one who’d reached out to Laura’s family and had been loved in return. “Vivian was more of a mother to me in the two years I was with you, Laura, than my own was back then. There. I said it. So give me my reward. Tell me my mother doesn’t give a—”
“Grant?” Laura clutched his arm. “I didn’t mean it like that. I know your mother loves you. And you love—”
His hand covered hers, and Laura swallowed the rest of her words.
He squeezed her hand. “I know. I’m sorry. It just…never mind.” He coupled his apology with a crooked grin that grabbed her heart and begged her to let it go. “We were talking about Vivian. And you were trying to tell me how she is.”
Self-consciously slipping her hand from his, Laura pushed her hair from her face and chuckled. “Well, you know my mother,” she said slowly, making sure she sounded long-suffering. “She’s as loony and generous as ever. And on husband number five. A nice guy named Irving.”
Grant crossed his arms, striking a casual-conversation pose. “Yeah, I heard you say five earlier. And I’m sure he is. Nice, that is. Not named Irving. But, anyway, couldn’t you warn this poor guy about your mother’s tendency to collect men and use them for procreation?”
Laura shrugged, playing for drama with the next bit of information. “I would’ve, but—get this—it was already too late. She was pregnant—”
“Shut up!” Grant laughed, playfully nudging her shoulder.
Grinning, Laura raised her right hand. “Swear to God. They had to get married. At their age. But I now have a great little six-year-old sister named Esther. You might be interested to know there are five of us kids now. Me, James, Cindy, Frederick and, like I said, Esther.”
“Wow. Five kids. Frederick and Esther I didn’t know about. And just think, you haven’t killed any of them yet. Imagine that.” Laura smacked his arm. He chuckled. “But double wow for Vivian. Six years. That’s a long time for her to stay with one man.”
“Isn’t it, though? I’m hoping this one takes. But she still hears from Glen and Roger. And of course, they send her child-support checks.”
“Of course. Are they three and four? Do I know them?”
Frowning, she thought, and then said, “No, I don’t think you do. Although keeping track of Mother’s love life can be pretty confusing. No, wait—you did know Glen. But Roger was…well, after you. And poor old Ed—remember number two?—he died a while back.”
“Oh, man, I’m sorry to hear that. He was a hell of a poker player.”
“Yes. All those years with the vice squad taught him well. Too bad he was on the wrong side of that desk, huh? But finally,” Laura added fatalistically, “there’s my father.”
“Oh, no. Don’t tell me that John—”
“Died? No, no. He’s fine. Out in California. Joined a commune. He calls occasionally. Asks for money. I think he’s trying to recoup all those years of child-support for me. But I send it, just to keep him out there.”
“Smart.” Grant chuckled, then sobered as if he realized he’d laughed at her whole life. Which he had. “It’s been tough, hasn’t it, kiddo?”
Laura shrugged, warmed but yet self-conscious because of his obvious sympathy. “Tough? No. Colorful is more like it And fun. Okay, wild and crazy. But I survived.”
“You more than survived. You look great. You’re doing great, too. I guess what I’m trying to say is…it’s good to see you, Laura. Really.”
Suddenly shy, Laura looked at her feet, wiggled her socks-encased toes, and finally looked at him. “Thanks. It’s good to see you, too.”
Grant’s grin widened. “Uh-huh. That’s why you avoided me for a whole month.”
She straightened guiltily. “I did not.”
“Did, too. But it doesn’t matter now.” He reached out and stroked her cheek. Laura’s knees nearly buckled. It was only through incredible self-discipline that she managed to avoid closing her eyes and moaning at his effect on her. All these undercurrents were pulling her under…under his spell. Again. But when he said, “I’ve missed you,” her willpower went up in smoke. Apparently, she’d needed those words from him.
Completely undone, but responding with a defensive fear that things were moving too fast, that she’d fall for him again with disastrous results, Laura resorted to humor. She forced a grin to her lips and said, “I’m glad you missed me. You deserve to, you rat.”
But her words didn’t have the lightening effect she’d expected. Grant nodded, as if agreeing that she was right, that he was a rat and that he did deserve to miss her. The quiet between them thickened. Slowly, Laura became aware of the moonlight, of how her shadow merged with Grant’s and spilled across the floor. She became aware, too, of his proximity to her. Aware of her pulse-pounding reaction to him. Aware of how he was reaching for her. Of how she was melting into his arms and offering up her mouth—
Aware of how Tucker suddenly screamed at the top of his lungs, jarring every nerve ending Laura owned and jolting Grant away from her. Her heart thumping, her mouth suddenly dry, Laura was right on Grant’s heels as he ran upstairs to the bedroom.
“What’s wrong with him?” she cried as Grant leaned over the baby and lifted his rounded and drawn-up little body out of the drawer, holding him at arm’s length and looking him up and down.
“I don’t know, Laura,” Grant answered, obviously agitated. “Maybe he just woke up to find himself in a drawer with a couple of giant strangers standing over him. Hell, I’d scream. Get that grocery-store lady on the phone. Maybe she’ll know what we should do. Hurry.”
Nodding, Laura went to grab the phone, only to stop in her tracks and yell, “I can’t. I don’t remember the name of the store. Oh, my God, what are we going to do, Grant?”
“Panic’s good,” Grant fussed, holding the child in front of him as if the baby were a live hand grenade with the pin already pulled. He tried making shushing and clucking noises.
Taking her cue from Grant, Laura helped out by making what she hoped were funny faces at the baby. The poor little guy. Like the forlorn and abandoned waif that he was, Tucker and his chubby-cheeked and squinting face steadily reddened. Real tears flowed from his eyes. Horrified, Laura clung to Grant’s arm, admonishing, “Do something else besides making noises. They’re not working.”
Grant frowned. “Like those faces you were making worked? Here—” he transferred Tucker to Laura’s arms “—you try. Maybe he wants his mother.”
Even as she held Tucker to her heart and swayed, rocking him, anger flared through Laura. “I’m not his—”
The baby screamed even louder, pushing against Laura. Her eyes widened. “Take him. He hates me,” she cried frantically as she juggled struggling baby limbs, trying desperately to maintain her hold on him. Or at least, her hold on a fistful of diapered bottom and one flailing arm.
Grant complied, swiftly drawing the screaming little boy into his arms. And then he did the same things Laura had…swaying and rocking, holding Tucker to his heart. Only this time, they worked. The baby instantly quieted. Again, Laura’s eyes widened, this time with hurt. “It’s true. He does hate—”
/> “Shh!” Grant warned, waving a hand at her from under the baby’s bottom. “Don’t wake him up. Look—” he pointed with the same hand, indicating the baby “—he’s almost asleep.”
Darned if Grant wasn’t right Tucker was almost asleep. So where did that leave her? The baby hated her. And loved Grant. Well, there you have it…the story of her life. Still, Laura forced herself to turn a you-did-it-he’s-asleep smile on Grant. He winked at her and looked at the baby. Laura’s gaze followed his. And then it hit her. Her expression softened. She swallowed, seeing the two of them through new eyes. Man and child. A father-and-son picture, commercial perfect. The handsome, virile male. Patting and rocking the perfect baby. Very touching.
Very pulse-pounding, actually. Satisfying. Nothing moved a woman’s heart more, according to all the industry research she’d read, than the sight of a man like Grant tamed, committed, paternal, the husband and father side of him on display. As she watched, she saw Tucker yawn, his round little mouth making the tiniest O Laura had ever seen. Her heart melted. Uh-oh. So it was true, all that industry research. Such a sight could make her fall in love. Fall in love? She was falling in love with him? Them. No. With Tucker. Or was it Grant?
Tucker drew up his chubby legs, which poked his unevenly diapered bottom out as he nestled closer to Grant. The baby murmured mama just before he clutched Grant’s shirt in his fists and dropped off to sleep in earnest Laura turned her wide-eyed stare to Grant and burst into quiet, shuddering tears. Grant’s mouth dropped open as he gestured helplessly and mouthed, “What’s wrong?” But Laura couldn’t tell him. She shook her head and sobbed.
Which only seemed to make Grant more frantic. With his arms full of baby, he was forced to use body language expressive enough to earn him a place next to Marcel Marceau in the mime hall of fame. With only a frown, he asked her if she was in pain. At least, that’s what she believed he was asking. She shook her head. Then he stiffened his arms, as if asking her if she wanted to take the baby. She waved him away, again shaking her head. He mouthed, “Why are you crying?” She shrugged and shook her head. She didn’t know why.
From Here To Maternity Page 5