by Nora Roberts
They passed the time in the big, airy birthing room telling stories, giving advice, joking with Zack once Mikhail and Nick arrived with Rachel’s things. Griff was happily settled in with Zack’s cook, Rio, so there was little to do but wait.
When Rachel felt like walking, they took turns leading her around the corridors, rubbing her back, making small talk to take her mind off the discomfort between contractions.
“I can see your mind working,” Alex murmured to Bess. “‘How can I use this?’”
“It’s ingrained.” She murmured her thanks when he passed her his cold drink. “Your family,” she said, glancing around the room. “I’ve never known anyone like them. My parents—they’d be appalled to be expected to take part in something like this.”
“It’s our baby, too.”
She smiled and lifted a hand to his cheek. “That’s what I mean. You’re all very special.”
“I’m glad you’re here.” As he leaned over to kiss her, Yuri slapped him on the back.
“Now all my children make babies but you.” He wiggled his brows at Bess. “You start soon, yes?”
“Papa…” Not sure how to take Bess’s chuckle, Alex rose and spoke, firmly and quietly, in his mother tongue. “When I decide to make babies, I’ll let you know.”
“What decide?” Yuri gestured toward Bess. “She’s the one you want, isn’t she?”
“Yes.”
Now Yuri gestured expansively with both hands. “Then?”
“I have my reasons for waiting. They’re my reasons.”
Though the shake of Yuri’s head was a gesture of sadness, there was a twinkle in his eye. “How is it all my children are so stubborn?”
“How is it my papa is so nosy?”
With a laugh, Yuri embraced Alex and kissed both his cheeks. “Go take this pretty girl for a walk, steal some kisses. Your sister will be some time yet.”
“That’s advice I’ll take.” He reached for Bess’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “Come on, let’s get some air.”
“Alexi.” Bess had to quicken her pace to keep up with him. “Don’t be angry with him. He didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“Yes, he did, but I’m not angry with him.”
“What were you two rattling on about?”
He punched the button for the elevator. “You know, I don’t think I’ll teach you any Ukrainian. It comes in too handy.”
“But it’s—”
“Rude,” he finished for her, grinning. “I know.”
By the time they came back again, Alex had taken his father’s advice to heart. Bess’s head was still spinning when they walked past the waiting room. It was Alex who spotted Nick, pacing and smoking in the smoking lounge like the cliché expectant daddy.
“How’s it going, kid?”
“It’s been an awfully long time.” Nick’s hand shook a bit as he lifted the cigarette to his lips. “I mean, Sydney was only in a couple of hours for Griff. It’s getting really intense, and Rachel kicked me and the camera out. How come they don’t do something?”
“I don’t know a lot about it,” Alex mused. “But I think babies come when they’re ready.”
“It’s only been a little more than six hours.” Bess moved in to soothe, touched that Nick should have such deep concern for his sister-in-law.
“Feels like six days,” Zack commented as he staggered in. He plucked the cigarette from Nick’s hand and took a deep drag. “She’s swearing at me. I know what some of those names are now, even if they aren’t in English.”
“That’s a good sign,” Bess assured him. “It means things are moving along.”
“She swore at the doctor, too.” With a sigh, he passed the cigarette back to Nick. “But she didn’t take a swing at him.”
“If she missed,” Alex commented, “she must be in really bad shape.”
Wincing, Zack rubbed his shoulder. “She didn’t. I’d better get back.”
“Let’s go give him some support,” Alex began, but then he spotted a woman rushing off the elevator. “Tash!”
“Oh, Alex!”
Bess watched the woman fly into the waiting room, Gypsy hair flowing. There was concern in her eyes and laughter on her lips as she swung into Alex’s arms.
“Alexi, how is Rachel?”
“Swearing at her doctor and punching Zack.”
“Ah.” She relaxed instantly. “That’s good. Nick.” She held out a hand for his. “Don’t look so worried. Your niece or nephew will be along soon. Spence is parking the car. We were going to leave the children, but they were so disappointed, we brought them. Freddie’s looking forward to seeing you.”
Nick brightened a bit. “How’s she doing?”
“She’s taller than me now, and so pretty. Alex, where’s Rachel?”
“I’ll take you. Oh, this is Bess.”
“Bess?” Natasha turned, one hand still on her brother’s arm. Of course, she’d heard about Bess. West Virginia might be a fair distance from New York, but family business traveled fast on phone wires. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”
“That’s all right. You’ve got a lot on your mind.” And then Bess said the first thing that came to hers. “What fabulous genes you all have.”
Natasha’s brows lifted. Then, below them, her eyes lit with laughter. “Rachel said I would like you. I hope we have time to talk before we leave town. I’m sorry to rush off.”
“Don’t worry about it. I think Nick and I’ll go to the cafeteria, rustle up some food for this group.”
Three hours later, Bess had delivered sandwiches and coffee, bounced Natasha’s youngest daughter, Katie, on her knee and introduced herself to Spence Kimball and helped him entertain his very cranky son. She’d met Freddie and noted that the pretty, pixielike teenager was deep in puppy love with Nick.
As time dragged on, she added her support when Mikhail pressured his very tired wife to rest in the waiting room, took a few minutes to interrogate some nurses to help her beef up some hospital scenes and soothed Alex’s nerves as his sister’s labor reached the final stages.
“It won’t be much longer.”
“That’s what they said an hour ago.”
They were standing in the waiting room. Alex refused to sit. After a yawn and a good stretch, Bess wrapped her arms around him.
“She’s fully dilated, and the baby was crowning. The last glance I had of the fetal monitor showed a really strong heartbeat. A fast one. I think it’s a girl.”
“How do you know so much?”
“Research.” She settled her head on his shoulder. “I was figuring earlier that I’ve delivered twelve babies, including one set of twins. In a matter of speaking.”
When her voice slurred, he tipped up her chin. “You’re asleep on your feet, McNee. I should have sent you home.”
“You couldn’t have pried me away.”
No, that was true, he realized. It was just one more aspect to her beauty. “I owe you.”
“Then pay up.” She lifted her mouth, sighing into the kiss.
“Mama.” Though he’d enjoyed watching his brother, Mikhail shot to his feet when he spotted his parents in the doorway.
“We have a new member of the family.” There were tears in Nadia’s eyes and in Yuri’s as he stood with his arm tight around his wife.
“What is it?” Nick and Alex demanded together.
“You will come see. They bring the baby to the glass in a moment.”
“Rachel is resting.” Yuri dashed away a tear. “You will kiss her good-night soon.”
They trooped out together, to wait by the nursery window for the first glimpse.
“I’m an uncle,” Nick said to Freddie. The girl’s cheeks turned pink as he gave her a hard hug. “Hey, there’s Zack.” He kept his arm around her as his brother walked forward, holding a tiny bundle. The bundle was squalling, and Zack was grinning from ear to ear.
He held the baby up. Atop the curling black hair was a bright pink bow.
“It’s a girl,” Alex murmured, and held Bess hard against him. “She’s beautiful.”
“Man” was the best Nick could do. “Oh, man.” Overcome for a moment, he glanced down and found himself looking at Freddie, who was still tucked under his arm. He drew back, brushed a fingertip along her cheek and caught a tear on the tip. “What’s this?”
“It’s just so sweet.” Freddie’s eyelashes were spiky and her eyes swam as she looked up at him. He thought for a moment—an uncomfortable moment—that it would be easy to drown in those eyes.
“Yeah, it’s great.” He let out a careful breath. She was his cousin, he reminded himself. Well, a kind of cousin. And she was hardly more than a kid. “I, ah, don’t have a handkerchief or anything.”
“It’s all right.” Freddie felt a drop roll down her cheek, but she didn’t mind. After all, these were the very best kind of tears. “Do you ever think about having babies?” she asked with disarming candor.
“Having—” Nick would have stepped back then, way back, but the family was crowding him in. “No,” he said firmly, and made himself look away from her damp, glowing face. “No way.”
“I do.” She sighed and let her head rest against his arm.
Mikhail was whispering something to Sydney that had her nodding and wiping away tears. Behind Freddie, Natasha shifted Katie in her arms and turned to her husband. He had one hand on Freddie’s shoulder, and his sleeping son lay curved on his own.
“Every one is a miracle.”
He bent his head to kiss her damp cheeks. “Just say the word anytime you decide you’d like another miracle of our own.”
“I am a man blessed.” Yuri grabbed the closest body. It happened to be Bess’s, and she found herself whirled in a circle. “Two grandsons. Now three granddaughters.” He tossed Bess up. She came down laughing, gripping his shoulders.
“Congratulations.” She pleased him enormously by kissing him firmly on the mouth. “Grandpapa.”
“It’s a good day.” He reached in his pocket. “Have a cigar.”
CHAPTER TEN
Rosalie considered herself an excellent judge of people, and she had already decided Bess was one strange lady. But she kept coming back.
Sure, the money was good, Rosalie thought as she sat drinking a diet soda in Bess’s basement office. And for a woman with a retirement plan, that had to be number one. Yet it was more than making an extra buck that kept her taking the trip up and across town several days each week. More, too, that kept her hanging around after they finished what Bess liked to call ‘consulting sessions.’
Rosalie was human enough to get a charge out of being connected, however remotely, to the entertainment world. She couldn’t deny that she’d been excited, awed and impressed when she watched a couple of tapings.
But there was another factor, a much more basic one. Rosalie enjoyed Bess’s company.
Besides being a strange lady, Bess had class. Rosalie didn’t figure a person had to possess class to recognize it in another. Class wasn’t just a matter of pedigree—though she’d discovered Bess had one. It was more than having an old lady in the DAR, or an old man in Who’s Who. It was hazier than that. Though Rosalie couldn’t quite come up with the terms she wanted, she had recognized in Bess those rare and often nebulous qualities, grace and compassion.
She was procrastinating over taking the trip back downtown by dawdling over her drink. Bess didn’t seem to mind if Rosalie hung around while she worked. In the few weeks since they’d hooked up, Rosalie had noted that Bess worked hard and long. Harder, in Rosalie’s opinion, than she herself, or any of the other ladies in her profession. Certainly Bess’s hours were longer.
It amused Rosalie to compare the two. In fact, she and Bess had gotten into a very interesting discussion on the similarities and differences between Bess’s selling her mind and Rosalie her body.
What a kick that had been, Rosalie thought now, while Bess typed and mumbled. Philosophical discussions weren’t the norm in Rosalie’s world.
The simple term she had not quite grasped for their relationship was friendship. They had become friends.
“How late you gonna work?” Rosalie asked, and Bess glanced up absently from the computer screen.
“Oh…not much longer.” Her eyes were still slightly unfocused when she blew her hair away from them. Brock was on the verge of seducing Jessica. “I just had this idea for a little twist on a scene for tomorrow.” She smiled then. It was quick, and a little wicked. “Of course, several members of the cast are going to want to murder me when I toss this at them in the morning. But that’s show biz.”
Rosalie took a drag on her cigarette. “What time did you get in here this morning?”
“Today? About nine-thirty. I was…” She thought of Alex. “Running a little late.”
Lips pursed, Rosalie looked at the fake designer watch on her wrist. “And it’s after seven now.” Her grin flashed. “Girlfriend, you’d only put in half that many hours in my line of work.”
“Yeah, but I get to sit down.” Bess rubbed at the dull ache in the back of her neck. She really was going to have to work on her posture. “Hungry?” she asked. “Want to order something in?”
With a little tug of regret, Rosalie stabbed out the cigarette. “No. I gotta get to work, too.”
“You could take the night off.” Casually Bess ran a finger lightly over the keyboard. “Maybe we could catch a movie.”
Chuckling, Rosalie dug in her purse for a mirror to check her makeup. “You said you weren’t going to try to reform me.”
“I lied.” Bess sat back in her chair while Rosalie painted her mouth bloodred. She’d tried very hard not to pontificate, not to pressure, not to preach. And thought she had succeeded. But she hadn’t tried not to care. That would have been useless. “I really worry about you. Especially since the last murder.”
The odd twisting in Rosalie’s stomach had her shifting her eyes from her compact mirror to Bess. She couldn’t remember if anyone had ever worried about her before. Certainly not in years. “Didn’t I tell you I could take care of myself?”
“Yes, but—”
“No buts about it, honey.” With a second dip into her purse, Rosalie pulled out a stiletto. One flick of the wrist, and the long, razor-sharp blade zipped out. “What I can’t handle, this can.”
Bess managed to close her mouth, but her eyes stayed riveted to the knife. In the overhead lights, it gleamed silver, bright as sudden death. She couldn’t say it was elegant. But it was fascinating, deathly fascinating. “Can I?”
With a shrug of her shoulders, Rosalie passed the weapon to her. “Don’t mess with the blade,” she warned. “It’s as sharp as it looks.”
Bess took a good grip on the handle, twisting her wrist this way and that, like a fencer. She wondered if Jade/Josie might carry one. She was already imagining a scene where the tormented Jade found the knife—maybe with the blade smeared with blood—in one of her practical handbags. No, her briefcase. Better.
“Have you ever—”
“Not yet.” Rosalie held out a hand to take it back. “But there’s always a first time.” She pressed the button, and the blade whisked away again. “So don’t loose any sleep over me.” After dropping the weapon back into her bag, she took out an atomizer and sprayed scent generously on her skin. The air bloomed with roses. “Couple more months, I’ll have enough put away. I’m going to be spending the winter in the Florida sunshine while you slog through dirty snow.” She rose, tugging her tight off-the-shoulder top provocatively down, so that the rise of her breasts swelled invitingly over it. “See you around.”
“Wait.” Bess scrambled through her own purse and came up with her mini recorder. “If it won’t bother your ethics, I thought you might use this.” At Rosalie’s wry glance, Bess’s cheeks heated. “I don’t mean to record that part. Just the streets, conversations with the other women, maybe a couple of, ah…transactions.”
“You’re the boss.” Taking the recorder, Rosali
e slipped it away.
“Be careful,” Bess added, though she knew Rosalie would laugh.
She did, sending a last cocky look over her bare shoulder. “Girlfriend, I’m always careful.”
Still chuckling, Rosalie headed down the narrow corridor toward the freight elevator. She was already picturing the way Bess’s eyes would pop out when she listened to the tape and discovered that her “consultant” had recorded everything. The prospect of pulling such a fine joke had her grinning as the doors slid open. Her amusement died a quick death when Alex walked off.
While they eyed each other with mutual suspicion, Alex pressed two fingers to the Door Open button. “How’s the moonlighting going, Rosalie?”
“It passes the time.”
When she started past him, he raised an arm to block the elevator opening. “What do you know about Crystal LaRue?”
“I know she’s dead.” Rosalie fisted a hand on her hip, cocked it. “Something else you want?”
Alex let her see that her snide invitation only amused him. “What do you know about her before she was dead?”
“Nothing.” She would have given him the same answer if she’d been Crystal’s most intimate friend, but as it was, she was telling the simple truth. “I never met her. Heard she was new, didn’t have a man yet.”
“Now, I heard that, too,” Alex said conversationally. “And I heard that Bobby wanted to make her one of his wives.”
“Maybe. Bobby likes to start them young.”
Alex struggled with his disgust. She’d been seventeen, he thought. A runaway who hadn’t known the rules and would never have a chance to learn them. “Did Bobby roust her, put on the pressure?”
“Can’t say.”
“Can’t say? Or won’t?”
Rosalie opened the hand on her hip and began to drum her fingers there. “Listen, I don’t know what Bobby did. I’ve been keeping out of his way lately.”
Saying nothing, Alex studied her face. The bruising had faded. “Seems to me Bess is paying you enough that you could stay out of his way altogether.”
“That’s my business.”
“And hers,” Alex said evenly. “I don’t want him finding out about this sideline of yours and going after her.” His eyes were cold and passionless. “Then I’d have to kill him.”