The Child They Didn't Expect

by Yvonne Lindsay

  “What time are you heading out?” she asked, fighting back the completely irrational twinge she’d felt at the fact he wouldn’t need her.

  “As soon as I can. I’ll collect Dad on the way to the hospital.”

  “You do what you need to do. Joshua and I will manage perfectly,” she said, a smile firmly pasted on her mouth.

  And they did manage perfectly. Aside from a short-lived cranky episode in the late afternoon—a time Ali remembered her sisters referring to as Arsenic Hour—the day had gone well. But it was well dark before Ali heard the garage door roll open and then, after a few moments, heard Ronin’s weary steps come down the hallway from the garage to the kitchen.

  She looked up from the table where she’d been sitting with her laptop and was shocked to see how gray Ronin looked. Weariness had scored deep lines between his brows and his eyes, usually flashing with brilliance, looked dull and unhappy.

  “Hi,” she said, unsure of how to ask him how his day had gone. “You’ve just missed seeing Joshua. I put him down ten minutes ago.”

  “No doubt I’ll see him during the night,” Ronin said, with a weight in his voice she’d never heard before.

  “I kept a meal for you. It’s warming in the oven.”

  “Thanks,” he said, turning to the oven and reaching for his plate.

  “Look out—it’s hot!” she warned, moving to her feet and across to the oven to pass him an oven mitt.

  “Sorry. Wasn’t thinking.”

  “That’s okay. They’re your fingers. Look, why don’t you sit down and I’ll bring this over to you?”

  “I’m not helpless,” he argued.

  “I didn’t say you were,” she consoled. “Now, go. Sit.”

  She deftly slipped on the mitt and pulled his plate from the oven shelf and popped it on the bench. Once Ronin sat at the table, she lay out cutlery in front of him, then went to the bench and grabbed a half bottle of red wine he’d left there the night before and poured him a glass.

  When she plunked the glass in front of him, he looked up with a crooked smile.

  “Do I look like I need this?”

  “Yes, you do. Frankly you look like you need hard liquor, but since I don’t know where you keep your whiskey, this will have to suffice,” she answered, and then went to peel the aluminum foil off his plate and deliver it to the table.

  She poured herself a glass of wine, too, and joined him at the table. She watched as he used his fork to shift the braised lamb shank with kumara mash around on his plate.

  “No good?” she asked. “I can put some mac and cheese together if you’d rather.”

  Mac and cheese had always been her mother’s staple comfort offering, Ali remembered, when one of her girls had had a tough day. And Ronin looked as if he’d had a very tough day.

  “No, it’s fine. Better than fine,” he said, and ate a few mouthfuls before putting his fork down and pushing the plate away from him. “I’m sorry. I can’t do it justice.”

  “That’s okay.”

  Ali went to remove the plate, but Ronin reached out and caught her by the wrist.

  “It’s not you or your cooking,” he said, his voice strained. “It’s just been a hellish day.”

  “Is your mother okay?”

  “She’s fine. Tired, which is understandable, but glad to be home again. It was being at my sister’s house that really hit me hard. I thought the funeral had given me closure, you know? That now, a few weeks down the track, I’d be ready for this. I didn’t realize how difficult it would be to be in their house, to go through their things, or to discover how much I miss her.”

  His voice cracked and, with that sound, the hard shell around Ali’s heart did, too. She knew what loss felt like. What it did to you when the world you knew ceased to turn on its axis anymore. When everything shattered and you were left with your life in pieces you had no idea how to put back together.

  “I’m sorry,” he continued, letting her go. “I shouldn’t off-load onto you.”

  “It’s okay,” she said quietly. “And—trust me on this—if you don’t off-load onto someone, eventually it will consume you.”

  He looked up from the table, his eyes bleak and empty. “I’m glad you’re here, Ali.”

  Ronin stood and took his plate over to the kitchen bench. He scraped his uneaten food into the trash before stacking his plate and utensils in the dishwasher.

  “Look, I’m beat. I think I’ll take this—” he snagged his glass of wine “—and head off for an early night.”

  “Good idea,” Ali said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She stayed downstairs a little longer, sipping her wine and looking out the French doors toward the lights that glittered in the distance like glow worms on a black canvas. This was her last night here. She should be positively gleeful at the prospect of returning to her world, her life, and yet somehow the edge had rubbed off her eagerness to leave. Why was that?

  The answer came quite swiftly, and she rolled it round in the back of her mind before finishing her wine in a single gulp and putting her glass on the kitchen bench. She switched off the downstairs lights and headed for the stairs. At the top, she hesitated. Turn left toward her room, or turn right toward the master suite?

  She turned right.

  She’d never been into this part of the house before. Somehow, knowing it was Ronin’s private domain had made it feel completely off-limits. Besides, she’d had no cause to come here. From the layout of the ground floor, she knew the master suite had to be large, but she hadn’t realized it also included a very spacious sitting room. She took a deep breath and stepped through the double doors that opened into the sitting room. She could hear the sound of water running, then silence. Ali froze in her tracks. It wasn’t too late to change her mind. She could leave now and he’d never know.

  She turned, one hand on the door to retrace her steps, when across the sitting room a door opened. Ronin walked out, a white towel slung around his hips. A towel he’d barely used, judging by the droplets of moisture that still clung to his body.

  Her eyes roamed his bare flesh, the damp matted scattering of hair at his chest, the trail that formed a line bisecting his lower belly.

  “Ali?”

  She dragged her gaze up to his face, to the confusion she saw there. Whatever she’d thought she could say to him fled her mind.

  “Is Joshua okay?” Ronin asked, taking a few steps toward her.

  She inhaled, readying herself to speak, but her senses were filled with the scent of him. With the cool sea air crispness of whatever soap he used blended together that that inimitable scent that was pure male, pure Ronin. “He—he’s fine,” she managed. “I just...I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” Ali finished lamely.

  Ronin’s eyes darkened. “Okay?”

  “Yeah, I...look, never mind.”

  She turned to leave, feeling ridiculous for having thought for a second she could go through with this. But then warm fingers caught at her hand and stopped her in her tracks. Slowly, ever so slowly, she turned back.

  Ronin gave her a gentle tug toward him. Unresisting, she went, her hands flattening on the expanse of his chest.

  “Ronin, I—”

  She never managed to finish her sentence. The words she had been about to say fled. Her palms tingled and her fingers curled against his skin. She lifted her face to his and rose on tiptoe to capture his mouth with her own. Their kiss swept her away on a tide of longing. They were two wounded souls, each needing oblivion, a chance to forget.

  When Ronin broke their embrace, a small cry of regret escaped her, but he took her by the hand and led her into the master bedroom. Soft lighting bathed the wide bed in a golden glow. Ronin tugged down the sheets with a few swift movements and then turned back to Ali.

 
“Here, let me,” she said as his hands reached for her.

  She quickly pulled off her sweater and unfastened her jeans before skimming them down her legs. She stepped out of her house shoes and the pooled denim at the same time and stood, dressed only in her apricot lace panties and bra.

  Ronin reached for her again and she came into his arms, her skin warming instantly on contact with his. Her hands went to the towel at his waist, tugging firmly until it came loose, and she tossed it to one side. She gave him one brief, hard kiss and then pulled back.

  “Sit,” she commanded in a whisper. “No, lie down.”

  With a tiny smile pulling at his lips, he did as she said. Ali joined him on the bed, straddling his legs and placing her hands at his shoulders. Slowly she began to trace the outline of his muscles with her fingertips, working down his body—over the taut discs of his nipples, down his ribcage, lingering at his belly button. Beneath her touch his skin dotted with goose bumps. She followed each touch with a gentle swirl of the tip of her tongue until she heard him groan and felt his hands fist in her hair.

  “Ali, stop. You don’t have to do this,” he gritted between clenched teeth.

  “Let me be the judge of that,” she said, looking up at him from beneath her lashes.

  When his fingers relaxed a little, she continued on her path. He was fully aroused, his flesh a taut shaft against his lower belly. She traced the length of him, from base to tip with her fingers, and then with her tongue. His hips pushed upward, and beneath her legs she felt his thighs grow rigid. She teased the tip of her tongue around his swollen head before taking him into her mouth.

  His sharply indrawn breath was his only acknowledgment as she pleasured him with her hands, her mouth, her tongue. As tension built in his body, she could feel him coiling tighter and tighter, determined to maintain control.

  “I want to be inside you,” he groaned. “Please, now.”

  She released him to fall wetly against his belly and rose to her knees.

  “Condom,” he said, reaching for a packet in his bedside drawer and tearing it open.

  Ali took the sheath from him and took her own good time rolling it on. The entire time, he watched her, his eyes glittering like multifaceted sapphires. When he was covered, she raised herself over him and positioned him at her center. Slowly she took him into her body, relishing the tug and pull of flesh as he slid deeper and deeper again.

  A ripple of pleasure rolled through her, making her clench her inner muscles around him and dragging another groan from his lips.

  “Too much?” she asked with a half smile.

  “Never,” he declared, and reached for her hips, encouraging her to move.

  As she slowly began to rock, Ronin thrust beneath her, his movements increasing the need that built and built until she felt him strain and push and cry out as his climax struck. She was so close, so close. She rocked against him, harder this time, faster, until she, too, felt the welcome swell of satisfaction swamp through her.

  She lay down on his body, her head resting on his chest, and listened as his heart beat double time in her ear. Ronin traced lazy shapes on her back with his fingertips.

  “Thank you,” he said, his voice a rasp in the air.

  “What for? You mean this?” she clenched around him again.

  “No. For coming to me.”

  She lay there, silent for a while longer. Then she spoke. “You needed me.”

  And there it was. She’d admitted it to herself. He needed her, so she’d gone to him. She hadn’t protected herself, her heart, as she’d promised she would. She’d put his needs above her own need to protect herself. And she couldn’t bring herself to regret the choice, even though she knew she had just laid herself open for some serious trouble ahead. She wasn’t the kind of woman who could just have sex with someone and walk away saying “Thanks for the memories.”

  Even in Hawaii she’d felt a link to Ronin that had led to her choice to sleep with him that first night—and that had left her feeling hurt and rejected when he’d vanished by the next morning. That link had grown stronger and deeper, and now it involved far more than just the two of them.

  She hadn’t wanted to love him, or even begin to love him, but she knew now that she was fighting a losing battle.

  Ronin’s hands splayed across her back, his palms warm and strong, and he rolled them both so they were lying side-by-side.

  “I’ll be right back. Don’t move a muscle,” he instructed as he slipped from the bed.

  She should get up anyway, find her clothes and go back to her room. Except she didn’t want to. Tonight she’d felt closer to Ronin than ever before. It was a terrifying prospect. She didn’t have long to ponder—he was back within seconds. Had he sprinted the distance to and from the bathroom?

  Back in bed, Ronin reached above him and hit a switch, plunging the room into darkness. Her eyes adjusted slightly, and she could almost make out his features in front of her.

  “Stay,” he said firmly, hooking one arm around her and pulling her to him. “Stay with me here. Don’t go tomorrow. Please?”

  It was the final word that broke her last barrier down. The knowledge that he needed her, wanted her. At least for now.

  “Yes,” she answered, placing a kiss on his chest, “I’ll stay.”

  His arm tightened around her and she waited as his breathing slowed, as he drifted off into slumber. Her eyes burned in the dark. Leaving him, and she eventually would have to, would come soon enough. But for now, she’d take what she could and damn the consequences to her fragile heart.

  Eleven

  There were times, Ali decided on Monday morning, when working with your best friend really wasn’t the smartest of ideas.

  “Ali, honey, are you sure you’re doing the right thing? I mean, helping the guy out when he couldn’t get a nanny is one thing—but moving in with him?”

  Ali took in a long breath and counted to five. “No, I’m not sure I’m doing the right thing, but I can’t see myself not doing it. I want to be with him, Deb.”

  She met Deb’s concerned gaze and cringed inside as the concern turned to pity.

  “Does he know?”

  “That I can’t have kids?” Ali shook her head. “It hasn’t come up, and besides, it’s too soon to throw that into the conversation. We’re still really getting to know one another.”

  “Which is all the more reason why you should keep your distance for now, don’t you think? You know, do things the old-fashioned way. Actually get to know one another before you live together?”

  “Sarcasm really isn’t your best trait,” Ali sniped in return, then sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t take it out on you.”

  “Too right you shouldn’t. But it’s okay. I understand. He’s one hell of a hunk of man, isn’t he? So, he must be pretty good between the sheets, huh?”

  Ali’s blush gave Deb all the reply she was going to get. Deb stood up from behind the reception desk and gave Ali a hug.

  “Hey, if he makes you happy then I’m all for it. I just need to know you’ll take care of yourself, buddy. I don’t want to see you hurt again. Not like before. Promise?”

  “Don’t worry,” Ali replied, putting on as brave a face as she could muster. “I know how to protect myself.”

  The thing was, she did know how to protect herself, and yet she’d chosen not to. Instead, she’d decided to embrace their budding relationship, for as long as it lasted.

  Throughout the day Ali found her mind straying from her work and back out to Whitford—to Ronin, more specifically. She wondered how the meeting with the first nanny had gone, and how Joshua was adjusting to his new caregiver. A stupid pang of envy hit her straight in the solar plexus at the thought of someone other than herself or Ronin providing Joshua with care and attention. And love? Yes, and
love. She pushed the thought away. She’d find out how Joshua’s morning had gone later on today. After she’d been to her place to collect more clothes and a few personal effects, she’d be back out at the house and seeing the new nannies in action, all of them, over the next few weeks.

  The idea sent a tiny thrill through her. She’d risen early this morning, remade the bed she’d been using in the nanny’s suite and, at Ronin’s suggestion, had shifted the things she already had with her into the second walk-in wardrobe in his room. Plonking her toothbrush into the holder on the marble bathroom vanity had given her an unreasonable sense of belonging. That said, she wasn’t hurrying to let go of the lease on her apartment just yet. She knew full well how nothing was a sure thing in this life.

  Her apartment was exactly as she’d left it just over a week before, albeit with a fine surface coating of dust in evidence. It didn’t take her long to clean up and pack. She had a sparse wardrobe, preferring to buy select quality pieces she could mix and match for work and a handful of cheaper items for casual wear. Her suitcase was hardly bulging when she did up the zipper and hefted it onto the floor.

  Am I doing the right thing? she asked herself as she locked the apartment door behind her and took the elevator down to the underground parking level. Only time would tell.

  * * *

  The week went quickly. Ali had forgotten how it felt to have something to look forward to at the end of the working day. Settling into a routine had come very naturally. When Ali pulled her car into her allotted bay in the garage on Friday night, she realized that the sensation that filled her now was genuine happiness. A feeling she hadn’t felt in so long that she’d almost been unable to identify it at first. The connecting door to the house opened, and Ronin stood in the doorway, waiting to greet her.