The Baby Battle

by Laura Marie Altom

  “O-of course,” she said, pushing her no doubt wild hair over her shoulders.

  “Leave it,” Tag said, crawling into bed beside her. The king-size mattress meant there was plenty of extra space. He wasn’t anywhere near touching her, yet she fought the craziest urge to slide close to him, resting her head on his chest, snuggling for warmth. “Your hair looks pretty down.”

  “Oh.” He’d developed a preference for her wearing it a certain way?

  “Dammit, Liv,” he said, leaning against the headboard with his hands linked behind his head. “I’m not getting any sleep over something my mom nagged me about.”

  How interesting that one of the very things keeping her awake was also affecting him.

  “Making a long story short, she and Dad apparently saw you put some extra oomph behind your smile, and they’re now convinced you’re pining for me, and that we should get married right away.”

  “W-what?” Olivia pushed herself upright in the bed.

  “It’s the craziest damned thing you’ve ever heard, right?” Lowering his hands, he repositioned onto his side, stroking her forearm. In the process, he unwittingly made heat streak through her entire body. “I explained to her that we have a mutually beneficial arrangement that doesn’t require a legal commitment, but she wasn’t having it.”

  Olivia laughed.

  Tag barked, “I fail to see anything funny about this.”

  “Ironic would probably be the better word, since when my aunt and I were whipping cream for dessert she gave me the shacking-up lecture.”

  “She actually accused you of shacking up?” Rolling even closer, he balled a pillow under his head.

  “Not in those exact words, but her meaning was clear enough.”

  “Yeah.” Reaching out, he tucked flyaway strands of hair behind her ear. Then he leaned closer and closer until his lips had nowhere else to go but against hers. His kiss shot silvery warmth through her, feeling crazy good.

  Groaning, she pressed against him, yearning for more.

  Unfortunately Tag pulled away. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I just…” His expression was unreadable. As if instead of enjoying their intimate moment, he was in pain.

  “Tag…it’s okay.”

  Ignoring her reassurance, he shifted a good two feet away before clearing his throat. “I’ve, ah, been meaning to tell you this for the longest time, but I guess pride has stopped me.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.” Sitting up, she asked, “Should I be worried?”

  He snorted. “More like ecstatic. As much as it pains me to admit, that sitter we interviewed?”

  “Wait—let me guess. Tabitha’s references all turned out impeccable?”

  Judging by his scowl, yes. “That still doesn’t mean we should hire her. There are those piercings to consider.”

  She laughed. “I guess now wouldn’t be the time to tell you I’ve been considering a belly button ring?”

  Making a sexy rumble deep in his throat, he raised her shirt, skimming his fingers along the tender rise of her stomach. For a moment her arousal was so intense, she held her breath, but once she regained her sanity, she asked, “Tag?”

  “Uh-huh?”

  Turning toward him, she whispered, “If our kissing apparently bothered you, why do you keep touching me?”

  “Honestly? I don’t know.” With the backs of his fingers he stroked her cheek. “Want me to stop?”

  “Yes.” No.

  When he chastely covered her hand with his, she closed her stinging eyes, losing herself in the intimate sensation. It had been years since anyone had touched her in a man-woman way. In her head, she got the fact that Tag was only trying to be friendly, but her emotions felt strapped to a runaway train.

  “What’re we going to do?” He took her hand and traced the fine lines on her palm.

  “About what?”

  “Our families?” Sighing, he said, “My brothers and sister are chomping at the bit to meet you and Flynn. Likewise, so are all of the folks I work with.”

  “My circle’s curious about you.” The more he stroked, the more she felt near purring. “They don’t understand how we went from being bitter enemies to housemates. They think I’ve gone off the deep end.”

  “Have you?” Moonlight shone off his strong, white-toothed grin.

  She tried swatting his chest, but he captured her hand, leaning still closer. Beneath her palm, his heart beat as erratically as hers.

  “What are we doing?” she asked, her voice a breathless half version of her normal self.

  “Wish I had an answer. All I know is that life stops hurting when I’m around you.”

  His words were a perfect encapsulation of what she’d wanted to say. For so long she’d done everything on her own, and had managed just fine. Managed. Only just now did she get the vast difference between getting along and thriving. But she’d already put her trust in a man, and look where that had left her. Yes, Tag was nothing like Phil, and they did share Flynn, but that didn’t mean their road couldn’t be filled with potholes.

  “Say something,” he requested.

  “I can’t.” It hurt too badly—the knowledge that whether she wanted to or not, her heart could be setting her up for another fall.

  “Why?”

  Inching still closer to him, she said, “I’m tired. Do we have to have this conversation tonight?”

  “I guess not. But if not now, when?”

  “I have an opening next week, Tuesday.” She flipped over, molding her backside to him, taking his hand and cupping it to her tummy. His radiant heat scorched her in a wonderful way. When she’d been pregnant, how many nights had she lain dreaming of someone holding her this way? Protecting her? Making her feel that no matter what life threw at her, everything would be okay? On the outside she portrayed the tough lady lawyer, but on the inside she was tired of being strong. “Want me to pencil you in?”

  “WHAT’S GOT YOU in such a good mood?” Alice asked while Tag whistled his way into his office a week later on a Monday morning.

  “High on life,” he said, tossing his briefcase on the floor beside his desk. “What’ve you got for me?”

  “A video conference, eighteen contracts to go over, lunch with your brothers and signing payroll checks.”

  “Great.” He sat in his comfy leather chair, snapping open the Wall Street Journal Alice laid out for him every morning. “Do I have a few minutes for a quick personal call?”

  “I suppose,” she said. “But I need you in the conference room no later than nine-fifteen.”

  “Will do,” he said, already reaching for the phone.

  With Alice out of the room, he punched in Liv’s cell. “Good morning,” he said when she answered on the second ring. “You ever find the munchkin’s favorite teething hippo?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, sounding out of breath. “Under the breakfast-nook table. He must’ve pitched it along with his teething cookies.”

  “Where are you?” he asked, trying to suppress a mental image of one of her short, all-business skirts riding up to expose her thighs.

  “On my way into the courthouse. I’ve got a pretrial meeting in fifteen minutes.” In the background was the grumble of a passing truck.

  “Is he a good-looking client?” he teased.

  “Point of fact, he’s a she.”

  “Oh. Is she hot?”

  Liv laughed. “You’re incorrigible. And a flirt.”

  After a long pause he said, “Sorry. I thought we were just fooling around.”

  “We are, but I’m not your girlfriend, Tag. At least, I’m not supposed to be.”

  “Right. I’m bad.”

  “True. Which is why I’m hanging up.”

  “Not yet.” Playing with the desktop pool game a coworker had given him for his last birthday, he asked, “Want to give Tabitha a try tonight and go out for grown-up dinner?”

  “Sounds highly tempting. Mind if I give you an answer after I see how the day pans out?
”

  “Not at all. I’ll tentatively add you to my schedule.”

  “I’m honored,” she teased.

  “You should be,” he teased right back. “Did Flynn ever get over his morning grumpies?”

  “Right after he fell into the arms of his love, Mrs. Nelson.”

  “Ah, the infamous Mrs. Nelson.” Chuckling over his son’s adoration of the buxom blonde at his day care, Tag said, “Wish I’d had more teachers like her.”

  “On that note,” Liv said with a laughing tone, “I really am hanging up.”

  When she did just that, Tag smiled all the more.

  Liv’s sense of humor was one of his favorite things about her. Of course, he also liked her hair. Especially at night when she left it down.

  Since that one time he’d fallen asleep in Liv’s bed, Tag had been careful not to put himself in that kind of inappropriate situation again. He and Liv were friends. The last thing he wanted was to send out signals they were more.

  Now, most nights after Flynn had settled off to sleep, Tag and Liv retreated to the family room adjacent to the kitchen. They talked about everything from sports and movies and house maintenance to what their hopes and aspirations were for their son’s life.

  Tag wanted him to take over the family oil business.

  Liv thought that was a fine goal, but that he first needed a top-notch education.

  Tag agreed.

  In fact, lately they seemed to agree on lots of things. The only thing troubling him about their relationship was the nagging fact that the more he was around her, the more dependent upon her he grew. Whether it was seeking her opinion on the color of his morning tie or having the lawn man plant purple pansies, white or a mix of both, he found himself searching for reasons to be with her.

  As for your compulsion to also be touching her?

  What could he say? He’d always been a hugger.

  That lone, hot kiss was hardly your garden-variety hug.

  True, but what harm did it do for him to be close to his son’s mother? Kids sensed that sort of thing, didn’t they? Tension between their parents.

  So, see? Tag wasn’t in the habit of sitting extra close to Liv for his own benefit, but that of his son. It was only natural for friends to be near each other, but on his honor, no more kissing. Tag wasn’t about to take his attraction a step further.

  Chapter Eleven

  “What’s that smile about?” Dane asked Olivia as she closed her flip phone in the courthouse lobby.

  How did she explain something she didn’t even understand? “Tag’s always horsing around.”

  “He makes you laugh?” Dane held open the door to the snack bar where they purchased morning coffee when they were running too late to get real coffee from Morgan’s.

  “All the time,” she said, standing at the end of a four-deep line. “He’s like a ten-year-old in a grown man’s body.”

  “Gabrielle says you two are inseparable.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.” She moved up in line. “But in caring for Flynn, we understandably spend a lot of time with each other.”

  Expression somber, he nodded.

  “What’s that look mean?”

  “Just that my wife’s worried about you, and you know how she gets when she’s in worrywart mode.” Fishing a five from his wallet, he said, “Call her, okay? She says she hasn’t heard from you in forever.”

  “More like two days,” Olivia said with a shake of her head. “But as soon as I get a break, I’ll check in.”

  “Thanks,” Dane said, planting a brotherly kiss to the crown of her head. “That’s all I ask.”

  Hours later, after examining witnesses on a heartbreaking domestic abuse case in which the wife claimed self-defense and the district attorney claimed murder, Olivia picked up Flynn from school, then made the twenty-five-minute drive home.

  Home.

  Funny how that used to mean the house she was still paying the mortgage on, but now it had taken on an entirely new connotation.

  Pressing the automatic garage-door opener, she’d never been happier to see Tag’s SUV on his side of the garage. Better yet, once she turned off her engine, he strolled out of the house’s mudroom door with a glass of white wine in hand. “You’re late. I figured you might need this.”

  “Bless you,” she said, taking the glass while he headed around to the car’s passenger side to scoop Flynn from his safety seat.

  “Hey, little man,” Tag crooned. “I missed you. Did you miss me?”

  Flynn gurgled with an excited buck.

  Beaming, Tag said, “I’ll take that as a yes.” To Olivia he asked, “Want me to get your purse and briefcase?”

  “Leave ’em.” In the house, she kicked off her heels and said, “Days like this make me crave an early retirement.”

  “Would I be safe in assuming Tabitha will have the night off?”

  Her answer was to close her eyes and sigh.

  “Want to tell me about it?” When Tag closed the door, she felt as if he’d also shut out the weight of the world. As if here, in their own universe, nothing could bring them down. “I made that cream cheese crab dip you like.”

  “Can I eat it while you rub my feet?”

  “Demanding wench, aren’t you?” Snatching her up in a hug, he made a growling noise while nuzzling her neck.

  Sandwiched between them, Flynn gurgled and cooed.

  AFTER A SIMPLE DINNER of grilled chicken and asparagus, then sharing Flynn’s bath time and putting him in his crib, Tag led Liv out to the hot tub, baby monitor in hand. It had been a beautiful day with temperatures in the high seventies, but now it was chilly, making the 102-degree water feel perfect.

  “This is nice,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder.

  “I concur.” He slipped his arm around her, loving the feel of her pliant curves against his hard planes. “So? Out with it. What happened in court?”

  “It was awful. I’m pretty sure it’s a slam dunk for my team, but the crime-scene photos have the jury squirming. It floors me how the D.A. even had the nerve to bring this to trial. My client was so badly beaten her eyes were swollen closed. She had three broken ribs, a punctured lung and concussion. Her only means of defense was the pan of fried chicken cooking on the stove. She slung it at him, and happened to get lucky. The bastard went down. End of story.”

  “Holy crap.” Rubbing her shoulders, he said, “I hate thinking of you immersed in that kind of violence all day.”

  “Me, too, but someone’s got to do it. This poor woman has three kids. Think of Flynn being trapped in that kind of toxic environment.”

  Tag rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “That’s an image I’d rather not imagine. Come here, you.” He hefted her onto his lap, smoothing her hair back from her face. “I missed you today.”

  “I missed you, too,” she said, toying with the dark curls on his chest. Her simple movement was causing problems beneath the bubbles.

  Trying not to think about how attractive she was, he said, “I had lunch with my brothers.”

  “Oh?” She wriggled to change positions, in the process making her full breasts nearly burst from her bikini top. New? For his benefit?

  He changed positions accordingly. “They want to meet you. Think it would be okay if we had their families and my sister’s over for barbecue Saturday afternoon?”

  “Sure. Sounds fun. How about I ask my crew over, too? Dane hit me up in the courthouse lobby today about how worried my friend Gabby is about me.”

  “Why?”

  “I used to hang out with the girls all the time, but now I’m always with you.”

  “That’s because I’m s-o-o-o good-looking. How could you resist?”

  That comment earned him a swat.

  “Watch it,” he complained, circling her wrists.

  “You need to watch your sass.” She playfully kissed his nose.

  He growled—it took every ounce of willpower he had not to grab her and kiss her senseles
s.

  “I’ll bet you were a hellion in high school.”

  “You know it.”

  “And college?” She kissed his throat.

  “Worse.” When she raised her face level with his, her breath smelled so good his insides felt as if they were on fire.

  For the longest time he stared into her eyes. “What have you done to me?”

  “Nothing more than you have me.” Leaner closer, closer, she let her lips hover above his, mingling their exhalations. “Do you want this?”

  “Yeah,” he said in a guttural voice he didn’t even recognize as his own. “Hell, yeah.” Pressing his lips to hers, he felt as if he were melting. And falling. Emerging from a long, dark tunnel into her light.

  Deeper and deeper he kissed.

  Further and further he fell.

  Easing his fingers into the hair at the back of her head, he pressed her closer still, loving her soft groans.

  Off came her top, and her breasts mounded against him.

  Shifting positions, she straddled his lap, leaving no mystery as to where this was heading. Both were breathing heavily and the water’s heat combined with his own internal fire, leaving him dazed and confused and hard with wanting.

  On autopilot, he shimmied free of his swim trunks.

  Losing her bikini bottom was no big issue.

  He was too hot, so with a swoosh of water he lifted her out of the hot tub to position her on the nearest cushioned lounge chair. The rock grotto was their own private paradise, complete with chirping crickets he could hardly hear above his racing pulse.

  He held off as long as he could, until her nails pressed into his back and she cried out with pleasure. His release hit like a rogue wave, slamming him with emotion he wasn’t equipped to handle.

  Her arms around his neck, she was still close enough for him to feel her pounding heart.

  She wasn’t alone. His heart felt ready to burst. Not good, considering his vow to keep their relationship platonic. What had he done? Gently he nudged her away. “I, um, guess we should check on Flynn.”

  “You all right?” Olivia asked in the awkward silence after they’d both found their bathing suits and wrapped themselves in towels taken from an outside storage cabinet.